


The Musical

by scarletjedi



Series: postsecret 'verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, alternate season 3, gratuitous use of baked goods, more smut than I realized, omg smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 62,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter Holidays are over, the lovers have been united, and graduation is in sight for our illustrious hero. But six months is a long time, and a new evil lurks on the horizon...</p><p>or</p><p>Dave returns to school with a new boyfriend, but everything is not coming up roses. He's stressed in ways he hasn't been since last summer as Artie keeps trying to get him to try out for the school musical (uh...no),  Rachel Berry's hunting him with her "Free Dave's Voice" campaign (oh, hell no!), and he finds himself stepping back into his increasingly flimsy closet as Hockey Season gets into full gear, (fml). Something's got to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuning Up

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a thanks to my lovely betas, proxydialoge and raving_liberal, who are the saving grace in everything I write. 
> 
> Also, unlike the others, I have a posting schedule for this fic! My plan is to post once a week, every Wednesday, hopefully, around this time. 
> 
> We'll see how long that lasts, shall we :)

  


David Karofsky had a boyfriend. 

Yep. It was still strange to think it. A _good_ strange, that made his skin tingle and toes curl. But _still._ Strange. 

David Karofsky’s boyfriend was Kurt Hummel. 

Now wasn’t that a turn up for the books. 

***  
Dave and Kurt lingered over breakfast at Sebastian’s. Dave wasn’t _un_ comfortable in his clothes, but they were day-old and Dave wanted nothing more than to strip them off. Preferably with Kurt. Santana smacked his arm, telling him to stop getting his smug all over the table. Kurt took that as his cue, and started ushering everyone out. Dave just managed to confirm a study date at the Lima Bean later in the week before he allowed Kurt to push him out the door with a firm hand on his ass.

They dropped Santana off at Brittany’s and stopped by Kurt’s so that he could change. Dave waited in the kitchen while Kurt was upstairs, and was joined a moment later by a shirtless Finn. Dave knew Finn didn’t notice him right away, or he would have freaked out about the large hickey at the base of his neck. It was deep purple and would probably match the shape of Puck’s mouth perfectly. Dave shook his head as Finn dug in the ‘fridge for the orange juice. He shook the carton, shrugged, and started to chug standing in the open door to the ‘fridge.

“If Kurt catches you, he’ll kill you,” Dave said, and fought back a smirk when Finn choked on the juice and spun, wiping his chin on the back of his forearm. 

“I—you—please don’t tell!” Finn said. Dave raised an eyebrow, and Finn shoved the carton back into the ‘fridge and fled back to his room. Dave heard Puck’s voice just before the door slammed and grinned. He had to get in on Santana’s pool. 

Kurt came downstairs a moment later, clearly trying not to giggle, and all thoughts of Finn and Puck and Santana fled. Kurt grabbed Dave’s hand and pulled him towards the Nav, and drove them to Dave’s house.  
. 

Kurt followed Dave upstairs to “help him change,” and Dave was suddenly very glad his Dad would be home late, when he grabbed Kurt just inside the door, and Kurt all but fell on him. 

Kurt was just—open and warm and _happy_ and—fuck— _sexy_ pressed against Dave’s wall, laid out on Dave’s bedspread, kneeling above him on the floor. It made Dave’s head spin. 

He had worried, briefly, that maybe they were rushing into things, that they had gone too far too fast. Dave had never had a boyfriend before, and Kurt’s ex was barely a boyfriend at all, but when he hesitated, resisted the gentle urging of Kurt’s hand to instead lick at Kurt’s hipbone, Kurt asked, “Dave? Are you—you don’t _have_ to, if you’re not ready—”

“No!” Dave cut Kurt off, pushed up to kiss him, press him into Dave’s pillows. “I want to, I just—” How was he going to say this? That he was afraid to reach for what he wanted in case it disappeared? That there was some sort of rulebook that it felt like everyone else had been given about how these things were done? That while he wasn’t _that_ attached to his virginity, it still felt like a big deal? That maybe it was a big deal because it was with _Kurt_ and not for any other reason? That the last thing he wanted was to make a wrong move, to be too eager and scare Kurt off? “I feel like I should _want_ to wait, you know? But I don’t. I want—I just _want you._

Kurt groaned, pulling Dave down with surprising strength, crushing them together as he bit kisses into Dave’s mouth, down his jaw neck.

“You can’t—you can’t say things like that,” Kurt said. “Not without expecting to get fucked.”

Dave’s focus fuzzed, the words buzzing down his spine. In his fantasies, he had pictured fucking Kurt a hundred times, never once considering—but now the thought was in his head and _fuck!_ “I don’t have anything,” he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears, and Kurt shuddered beneath him.

“Next time, then.”

“Yeah,” Dave said. “Next time.”

Kurt closed his eyes, licked his lips, and took a shuddering breath. “If you want. Only if you want. I don’t want to rush you, but Dave,” Kurt opened his eyes and they were so dark— “Don’t hold yourself back because you feel ‘like you should’. Don’t deny yourself something you want because of what other people think. The only people who matter are right here, and I’m going to be perfectly honest? I want to do everything with you.” Kurt grinned. “More than once.”

Dave had to swallow past a lump in his throat. “Everything could take a while.” 

Kurt’s grin softened, sweetened. “Then we best get started.” 

This time, when Kurt pushed at Dave’s head, he let Kurt guide him lower, had sucked Kurt’s cock until Kurt was gasping and cursing and coming so sweetly that it felt like a victory. 

Not long after that, pleasantly sore and high on good feeling, they lay with Kurt cuddled up to Dave’s chest, idly running his fingers through Dave’s chest hair. Dave hmmed with contentment and tightened his hold on Kurt. Gradually, he noticed Kurt tensing. 

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, wondering at the way his voice sounded _used._

“We need to have a conversation about how public we’re going to be, and I’m not sure how to bring it up,” Kurt said into Dave’s chest. 

Dave felt his heart skip and a flash of cold run through him. “I don’t want to be out at school,” he said. “I mean, GSA is one thing, but—I didn’t want to come out until after hockey, and I still don’t.” 

Kurt nodded. “If we lived anywhere else, I’d fight you on that. But, we don’t. And I agree with you.” Kurt pushed himself up to look at Dave. “I said before, and I’ll say again, you need to come out at your own speed. But what about people who already know? How ‘public’ are we going to be with them?”

Dave sighed, feeling irritation spike at the back of his mind. He hated that they even had to have this conversation. If either one of them were a girl— “One: I finally landed the hottest guy at school, you better be damn sure I’m gonna show you off when I can.” Kurt blushed, and Dave shrugged ruefully. “And two: Most of them know already.” He paused. “We’ll have to tell our parents. No way I’m gonna pretend at home.” 

Kurt nodded, then sighed. “Then we should probably put on pants before you dad gets home. So we can tell him without it being obvious that we’ve been all over each other all day.” 

***

School had been in session for a week when Dave blinked and felt like he had just awoken from a dream. He jerked at his desk, knocking his pen to the floor, and he bent to pick it up to hide the embarrassed flush in his cheeks when his math teacher gave him a look. 

He knew he hadn’t been asleep, he had the notes to prove it, but he couldn’t really remember taking them. All he could remember from the previous week was Kurt. 

Kurt’s smile. His eyes. His arms. The way his chest felt through cotton and the way it would flush when Dave pulled Kurt’s shirt off. The way Kurt’s ass felt under Dave’s hands as Kurt licked his way into Dave’s mouth. Dave licked his lips, surprised when he didn’t taste Kurt and sweet coffee. 

Dave jerked as the bell rang. He had been so lost in thought, that he completely missed the end of the class. He gathered his books and headed towards the lunch room and Kurt. 

It hadn’t been easy, not being out at school. Dave never thought that would ever be a problem, but—Kurt was _right there_ and there was nothing he could do about it. Even at the GSA meeting yesterday, when everybody already knew, Dave was torn between acting like nothing had changed and pulling Kurt in and never letting go. 

Kurt, thank God, had let Dave lead the way, but upon seeing Dave’s indecision, had compromised. He sat next to Dave, pulled their chairs close, and wrapped their ankles together. Sure, anybody who knew would know looking at them, and it was a bit suspicious, but it was better than nothing, and Dave hated that he wasn’t quite brave enough to put his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. Dave was so happy they didn’t have to deal with any of that at home. 

His father had taken the news well, looking not surprised but more—not surprised. He had taken a moment, but then nodded, asked if Kurt was staying for dinner, and said, “I like you Kurt, and I know Dave is crazy about you. If you’re willing to put up with this crazy family of ours, then you’ll always be welcome.” 

Kurt had definitely had tears in his eyes as he thanked Paul, and Dave had given Paul a big hug while Paul laughed. Paul declared it his turn to cook to celebrate, and pulled out the phone to order pizza. Kurt had gone home after dinner, lingering with Dave in the shadows on the front porch, and told Dave he’d call after he told Burt. 

Dave hadn’t known how anxious he had been until Kurt called, and told him that Burt had welcomed Dave in the same breath as reminding Kurt that Burt had a shotgun, which, according to Kurt, was the highest blessing one could get. 

Dave rounded the corner to the cafeteria and let the sounds and smells distract him from his memories. Ugh. Mystery Meat. If he was in luck, they’d still have some chicken-on-a-bun—

“David Karofsky!” 

Dave drew up short, only barely not running Rachel Berry over as she appeared in front of him. 

“Berry,” Dave said. He wondered if he could get around her without her following, but there was even more crazy in her eyes than usual, and Dave braced himself for the worst. 

“As you know, being that you have, quite wisely in my opinion, opened yourself to new friends and new experiences, which is more than I can say for some of your fellow teammates, it behooves you to—”

“Berry,” Dave held up his hand. “In English? Before lunch ends?” 

Berry took a deep breath. and Dave knew it was coming, he could see it but wasn’t able to step out of the way. 

“Join Glee.” 

“Ha ha—no,” Dave said, and reached a hand out to gently guide her to the side so that he could pass; maybe it was because she had such a low center of gravity, being short and all, but she didn’t move. 

“I’m serious, David,” Berry said. “I need to win Nationals and to win Nationals, we need your voice.” 

Dave nodded. “So you want me to do this for you?” 

“Yes, but not just for me,” Berry said. “I truly think that, it will not only look good on your transcripts, it will allow you to spend more time with your friends.” Berry paused. “There’s nothing like performing, David. I saw you at half-time last year. You know what I mean.” 

There were fucking _stars_ in her eyes. Unbelievable. 

The worst part was that she was right. There was nothing like performing. Dave still thought about dancing on the football field, how it felt—that rush. 

But—there was a big difference between enjoying a mandatory dance with his teammates and joining the glee club. Dave knew the fine line he was drawing just co-leading the GSA. He was starting to get a rep as a glee club groupie before break, which got him enough shit from Cooper, but now—it was hard enough keeping his hands to himself around Kurt in the hallway. He couldn’t risk anything else that would make people look twice. 

“I know what you mean,” Dave said, quietly. 

Berry brightened. “So that means you’ll join?” 

Dave shook his head. “No, Rachel. It means that I know what you mean. But I’m not joining Glee. Please don’t ask again.” 

Berry slumped, her lower lip thrusting out in a pout and, finally, Dave was able to pass her by. 

Kurt had a better pout, anyway. 

***

Dave found most of the glee club clustered around the billboard by the office. He stopped next to Artie, who was back and to the side, looking smug. 

“What’s going on?” Dave asked. 

“Sign ups for the musical,” Artie said. “Everyone who wants to be involved signs up, then auditions, then casting.” At Dave’s look, Artie grinned. “I’m directing.” 

“Cool,” Dave said. He spotted Kurt up at the front, battling Rachel for space to write his name. Feeling giddy, Dave knew he had a ridiculous smile on his face when Artie started to laugh. 

“You are gone,” Artie said, and Dave rolled his eyes. 

He didn’t stop smiling, though. 

“You should sign up,” Artie said, nodding at the crowd. “It’s _Little Shop of Horrors._ Audrey II is sung by a baritone. We could use you.” 

Dave shook his head. “I don’t sing in public.” 

“Not even to spend more time with _you-know-who_?” 

Dave just glared. When Artie just laughed it off, Dave missed the days when his glare could make him go running.” 

Kurt saw him then, and his smile widened. 

Well, _almost_ missed.

***

Wednesday afternoons were free for the next few weeks—Dave didn’t have practice and rehearsals began for Kurt in the first week of February. Which meant, for the next few weeks anyway, they had a few hours alone at Dave’s house. Dave was pretty sure Paul was turning a blind eye out of some fucked up sense of apology, like he could make up for everything by letting Kurt and Dave have sex without comment. And while Dave wanted to shake Paul, tell him that _it doesn’t work that way!_ he also wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

It also meant that Kurt wasted no time once in the door, racing for the stairs and laughing, pulling off his clothes as he went. Dave chased after, slowing their progress, but it was worth it to pin Kurt to the stairs, to mouth at Kurt’s stomach where his shirt opened while Kurt pulled at Dave’s letterman. 

“Fucking—fuck,” Kurt muttered. Dave grinned up at him, keeping his arms where they were just to see Kurt flustered. “Take. This. Off!” Dave leaned up and licked Kurt’s neck, gently biting at the tendon. Kurt’s hands went slack, and Dave shucked off his jacket. He pulled back, holding it over Kurt’s head. 

“You mean this?” Dave teased. 

Kurt narrowed his eyes, then smirked. “One day, I’m going to bend you over and fuck you in that jacket.” 

Dave’s eyes crossed as he pictured it. Dave, bent over the edge of his bed—no, bent over the locker room bench wearing nothing but his letterman as Kurt fucked him from behind. 

Or better yet, fucked him while _Kurt_ wore the letterman. 

“What’s the matter, Babe?” Kurt said. “Did I break something?” 

Dave’s eyes focused on Kurt and he _growled._ Kurt’s eyes widened and Dave _moved,_ pushing himself to his feet and pulling Kurt up with him. Kurt clung, wrapped his arms around Dave as Dave pounded up the stairs. 

Kurt wiggled in Dave’s arms, squeezing his legs tight around Dave’s waist and grinding, trying to push Dave’s clothes off at the same time. Dave squeezed Kurt’s ass in warning, and Kurt raked his nails up Dave’s back. 

Somehow, they made it to Dave’s bed. Kurt bounced when Dave dropped him, and he giggled as helped Dave strip him of the rest of his clothes. Dave knew he was grinning too from the ache in his face, but he couldn’t stop. He pulled his own shirt off and stopped to stare at Kurt, fully naked on his bed. 

Kurt was pale all over—like he never tanned, and smooth; what little hair he had was light and fine. His body wasn’t muscled the way Dave’s was, that was obvious from the clothes he wore, but that fancy armor hid a tight musculature—more definition that bulk—that was surprisingly manly. Naked, there was no denying Kurt was a man. 

Especially his cock. (Dave liked that word—cock. It was sexual in a way “dick” wasn’t and “penis” never could be). Once, Dave had overheard some of the other jocks in the locker room, laughing about Kurt’s cock—saying it had to be tiny if he had one at all. Dave hadn’t said anything then, though he had thought about it, asking why they all seemed so preoccupied with the gay kid’s junk. But the glee club had just performed _Push It_ and Dave couldn’t stop thinking about Kurt’s cock either. 

He wished he could say something now, though. Shove their faces in it. 

Kurt licked his lips, flexed his hand. “Where are you today?” he asked softly. 

Dave drew in a sharp breath. “Here,” he said. “Right here.” 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Then are you gonna do something or am I going to have to do all the work?” he said, teasing. 

“I’ll show you work,” Dave said, practically growling as he dropped onto all fours above Kurt. Kurt grinned. 

“Counting on it,” he shot back. Dave kissed him, and Kurt kissed back with teeth and nails, and Dave palmed Kurt’s cock between them and Kurt bit back curses until he was just biting—Dave’s shoulders, the tendon in his neck, the hinge of his jaw. Dave gasped at that, pushed and pulled at Kurt, moving him into position and Kurt’s pupils were blown and his cock was flushed dark and leaking and—

“Fuck, you—you could toss me around, can’t you.” 

Dave froze. What did Kurt mean by that? He wasn’t—Dave hadn’t been too rough, had he? Kurt wasn’t having some kind of weird flashback, right? Oh God, he could have hurt Kurt! “I—I wouldn’t, Kurt I—”

“Not even if I wanted you to?” Kurt asked, quick like he was afraid Dave would stop him before the words came out. Kurt was biting his lip, face pink and eyes still dark, cock still achingly hard. 

“You—what?” 

“I said,” Kurt said, clearly gaining confidence, “Not even if I wanted you to?” 

Dave didn’t know how to respond to that. He shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion even as one of his hands reached up to stroke down Kurt’s side. 

Kurt’s expression hardened. “What, you think I can’t handle you? I’m not some—some weakling. You don’t have to treat me like glass. I’m not going to break!” 

“I know,” Dave said, even though he wasn’t really sure he did. “That’s not—Kurt that’s not it at all.” Except it was. Dave _was_ afraid of breaking Kurt, he was just so much _bigger_ —then again, Dave was afraid of Kurt breaking _him_ , too.

“Then what is it?” Kurt snapped. “Because I was having a lot of fun before you decided I was less than you.” 

“Less?” Dave’s head was spinning. “No—no! Not less—more. Kurt—You deserve so much better than me—”

“Shut up!” Kurt snapped, pushing up, pushing Dave back. Dave tried to stand, but a well placed shove from Kurt sent him toppling backwards onto the floor, and Kurt followed him down, sitting low on Dave’s waist. “I don’t want to hear your self-deprecating bullshit, okay? You are an amazing person and you fucking _see_ me and guess what? _I see you too!_ So just fucking trust my judgment that I know what I want and that I want you.” 

Dave blinked. “I do trust you,” he said quietly. “More than anyone.” 

Kurt sagged. “So why are we fighting?” 

Dave licked his lips and shrugged. “Passion’s never been our problem.” 

Kurt threw his head back, barking out a laugh, before pinning Dave with a challenging grin. “Prove it.” 

So Dave—Did. 

He grabbed Kurt’s waist and lifted him forward, making Kurt brace himself on Dave’s forearms as Dave craned his neck to lick a wet stripe up Kurt’s cock. 

_“Fuck!”_ Kurt bit out as Dave moved him, tilting his hips so Dave could pull Kurt’s cock into his mouth. Kurt moved his arms as Dave urged him forward, pressing against Dave’s carpet and trying to hold himself up above Dave’s head as Dave sucked him down. 

Dave had never been this hard in his life, and his own cock ached where it pressed against his zipper, but he couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t let Kurt go. The spark of pain was enough to keep him level headed as Kurt shook apart above him and came. Dave swallowed what he could, but could feel something wet run over his numbing lips. 

“Oh, Dave,” Kurt breathed as Dave lowered him down. Kurt sprawled across Dave’s chest, nosing at Dave’s chest hair. “Dave.” 

“Yeah,” Dave said. 

Kurt giggled suddenly. “You’re still in your jeans.” 

Dave reached a hand down and undid his pants, easing the zipper down carefully, and shuddered with relief as the pressure disappeared. He gently ran a hand up his length, soothing more than pleasuring, but he was so close they were much the same. His fist tightened and his hand sped up. 

“You’re so hot,” Kurt murmured, and closed his hand on top of Dave’s. 

Dave came with a cry, back arching, Kurt still clinging to his front. He collapsed back down with a sigh, and wrapped an arm around Kurt’s waist, nuzzling at the top of Kurt’s hair. 

“I don’t think less of you,” Dave said quietly, wanting to make sure that was known. 

“Don’t put me on a pedestal, either,” Kurt said. “I’m sick and tired of being on a different level than everyone else.” 

Dave pressed a kiss to Kurt’s hair. “Equals, then?” 

There was a smile in Kurt’s voice when he answered: “Sounds like a plan to me.” 

“You might need to help me with that.” 

“We can check each other.” 

***

Dave felt jittery—wired. Holding onto secrets—even good ones like Kurt and sex and sex with Kurt—always made him irritable. 

By Friday he was snappish, after everyone. Santana had given up after a few minutes, spitting out that she thought replacing the stick up his ass with dick would improve his mood, which made Dave want to tell her that they hadn’t done that yet but that they probably would, and then remembered that he couldn’t _talk_ about it and he became even more aggravated and—

Somebody must have told Kurt, because Kurt cornered him before lunch and said, “Come on,” walking away and expecting Dave to follow. 

Which Dave did, even though Kurt looked pissed and Dave didn’t want to be alone with Kurt when they were both angry and frustrated—that way led to locker room kisses and outings and everything Dave was afraid of. 

Kurt led them down towards the locker rooms, and Dave felt sweat bead at his hairline, not sure if he was anticipating a fight or stuck on the image Kurt had conveyed the other day. Dave wouldn’t put it past Kurt to talk him into public locker room sex. Kurt could talk him into anything and, the more he thought about it, the more he kinda wanted it. 

Kurt opened Coach Beiste’s door and, for a moment, Dave had to admire Kurt’s sheer balls—sex in the coach’s office? 

But no, Dave realized. Kurt wasn’t whisking him off for illicit sex—Kurt was mad at him. 

_Fuck._

“You mind telling me what crawled up your butt and died?” Kurt demanded, spinning to face him. Dave shut the door, words falling from his mouth before he could think. 

“Everyone seems preoccupied with my ass today.” 

Kurt just raised an eyebrow, unamused. 

Dave shrugged, on the defensive and not really sure how to stop. “What?” he snapped. “What do you want?” 

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong!” Kurt said, getting into Dave’s space. Dave glowered. Kurt poked Dave’s chest as he said, “We’re supposed to be equals in this, remember? That means talk!” 

Dave clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose. His blood was pounding in his ears like it hadn’t since—

Since the last time Kurt had cornered him in the locker room, demanding a change in his behavior. 

Dave slumped, anger leaving him in a rush, and Dave was suddenly _tired._ He wiped a hand over his face. 

“Sorry,” he said into his palm, and again when he dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, Kurt.” 

Kurt sighed. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, sliding his hand down to grab Dave’s. Dave looked at their entwined fingers as he answered. 

“I really, _really,_ hate secrets.” He spoke so softly, it was almost a whisper. “And once again I have a secret, and you’re involved in a starring role, and I can’t touch you when I want and it’s driving me crazy, I’m so afraid.” Dave’s voice cracked and he fell silent, pressing his lips together. 

“It sucks,” Kurt said, just as quietly. 

Dave sniffed, pushing it back, pushing it down. He tried to smile at Kurt, but it was a weak thing and he knew it. “It’s not forever,” Dave said, wishing he could believe it as much as he wanted to. Needed to. 

“No,” Kurt said. “And it’s something you can easily control.” 

Dave nodded, paused, and shook his head. “Not easy.” 

Kurt glanced towards the window, and reached up to cup Dave’s cheek. Dave leaned into Kurt’s touch. This was real. 

“How can we make this easier?” Kurt murmured. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You need an outlet, Babe.” It was the second time Kurt had called him that. Dave felt that fact lodge warm in his chest. Kurt called him “Babe.” And said he needed an outlet. Dave narrowed his eyes.

“I’m not joining glee.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow that seemed to say: “We’ll see about that.” But all he said was, “I meant therapy, Dave.”

Dave sighed. “I know. But not the one I was seeing. That guy was a prick.”

“That would be a problem,” Kurt said. “But you know, in the meantime, until you find—“

Dave groaned, cutting Kurt off. “No, no. Don’t. Berry cornered me earlier. Don’t remind me of Berry when I want to kiss you—I don’t want any conditioned responses to her.”

Kurt snorted. “I’m not surprised. While I agree with her, I’ll let the subject drop. Now,” he grinned. “You said something about kissing?” He pulled Dave down for a kiss. It was risky, Dave knew, but for a moment he let himself get lost in the kiss, pulling Kurt closer and shivering as Kurt licked at his teeth. Kurt pulled away gently. 

“My first game’s tonight,” Dave said into the space between them. “I’d like it if you’d be there.” Fuck them if anybody said anything. Dave went to Kurt’s glee things before they were dating, this was no different. Dave wanted Kurt there, to see him fly on the ice. 

Kurt’s grinned widened. “I’ll be there with bells on.” 

“And I’ll talk to my Dad,” Dave said. Maybe they could get a family rate or something. BOGO. Kurt grinned at him, and left for class with another kiss. Dave watched him go for a long moment.

It was only later, when Dave was strapping on his shin guards that he wondered if Kurt had meant actual bells. 

***

It was lonely, being in the locker room and not fighting for space with the football team—weirder still, because for the first time Dave realized how close he had gotten to the glocks. Most of his teammates were friendly enough, but they still grouped together _around_ him and not _with_ him. And none of them were in the GSA—it felt like he had his back exposed and it put him on edge.

Dave snorted as he tightened the last strap on his pads. At least he wouldn’t have to fake aggression on the ice.

“Alright you fairies, listen up,” Cooper called, standing where Coach always stood. Coach was nowhere to be seen. Dave’s scowl hardened on his face. Who did this little shit think he was? The captain should set a good example.

Odd not to have Finn or Puck take Cooper to task for his language and it hammered home how alone Dave was, how little backup he had on this team.

“Is there a problem, Kar _of_ sky?”

Slowly, Dave met Cooper’s eyes, knowing it looked menacing—casually threatening—and not scared. He found Cooper smirking at him, the others on the team starting to look uneasy.

“No,” Dave said, quietly. “No problem.”

Cooper seemed disappointed at Dave’s lack of confrontation. Good. Dave wouldn’t give Cooper the satisfaction. He would keep his head down. Stay under the radar.

Only three months of this.

At least he had the ice.

Everything changed when Dave was on the ice. All the fear, all the upheaval—the _stuck_ feeling of treading water, where no matter how hard you move you’re only barely staying afloat—all gone in the smooth slide of metal on ice.

Dave skated around the rink with his teammates, letting the rhythmic push calm his fears, the exertion replacing anxiety. He pulled up to the boards and grabbed his water bottle, looking around the stands.

There were never many people at the hockey games, never as many as the football games, anyway, but this crowd was larger than normal, and Dave had a hard time finding anybody. But there was one crush of people that kept catching his eyes, and when he looked harder, he realized it was the glocks, setting up an impromptu cheering section. Dave squinted. Did Puck have pom-poms? Oh, hell no.

Dave skated over, intent on telling the others just where they could stick those pom poms, when his eyes caught a flash of color, and saw Kurt, bundled against the cold, coming down the stairs. Dave nearly skated into the boards.

Kurt continued down until he was standing in front of Dave. “Hi,” he said, quietly.

“Hi,” Dave said, and grinned. Fuck Cooper. Who cared about Cooper. Kurt was _here._ For _him._ “You made it.”

“Of course,” Kurt said. “Would I miss this,” Kurt waved his hand, “Bloodsport?”

“It’s right up your alley,” Dave agreed and Kurt ‘hmm’ed.

“Finn offered to explain what was happening to me,” Kurt said. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already know; Dad’s watched hockey for years.” Kurt shrugged. “If nothing else, the _way_ he explains it will be interesting.”

“There is that,” Dave said. He wanted to reach out and touch, but knew he couldn’t; it was too dangerous, too public. This couldn’t be the only time he saw Kurt tonight. “You want to get a burger or something after this?” Dave asked. “Just the two of us.”

Kurt grinned. “I’d like that.”

Dave grinned back as the warning buzzer sounded. He had to get back to his team. “I’ll text you.”

“Break a leg!” Kurt called out behind him as Dave skated away.

Cooper was scowling—again—when Dave got back to the team, and Dave rolled his eyes. He wasn’t the only one who had stopped to say hi to somebody, so Cooper would just have to deal. 

_Whatever,_ he thought as he took his position on the ice. _Let’s just play some fucking hockey._

The game was intense. 

The other team was good—very good. They had made it to playoffs for the last seven years, and won five of them. Dave wasn’t sure if that meant McKinley was on an upswing or Lincoln High was on a downturn, but either way the match was high energy, low scoring, and left no room for locker room troubles. 

Dave skated like he had been born on the ice, mind focused on the puck and tracking the team in ways he couldn’t on a football field. He threw himself into the game, blocking shots and players, forcing the other team off course. Once, he crashed into Lincoln’s right winger, knocking him into the boards in front of the glocks. He heard Puck’s “Holy shit!” and grinned. The winger startled, fell on the ice and Dave was off with the puck, shooting to Anderson, the right winger, who netted their first goal. 

Dave switched out next rotation. He sat on the bench, swished water around his mouth, and watched. Meyers, one of the second string defenseman, thumped Dave’s shoulder pad and Dave rocked with the motion. “You’re a beast out there!” Meyers said, thumping Dave again. Dave grinned back and Meyers laughed. 

God _damn_ it felt good to be back!

Lincoln tied at the start of the third quarter, and Dave stayed on the ice more than not until the final buzzer sounded. First game of the season would end in sudden death overtime. 

They lined up on the ice. Dave leaned over, stick ready as he stared at the opposing team member. The guy stared back at him and Dave peeled his lips back over his mouth guard. Then the puck was dropped and Dave shot forward, tangling with the guy and quickly losing sight of the puck. No matter; he’d pick it up once he freed himself from this—

The buzzer sounded. A goal. A roar of noise. Dave looked around. _Had they—?_

Then Meyers slammed into him, yelling into his ear that _We won! We fucking won!_ and Dave hugged him back, thumping hard through the pads and drawn into the press as the team celebrated. First game. First win. A great start to the season. 

Dave rode the high all the way to the locker room, too exuberant and honestly too much in a hurry to meet Kurt to worry about showering with the team. He thought about it, briefly, as he stripped down. He didn’t need to worry about anybody thinking he wanted to look at them; the only one he wanted to look at was Kurt. He didn’t need to worry about unfortunate erections—okay, thinking about Kurt *could* lead to an embarrassing moment, but tonight it could be written off as a side effect of an adrenaline high. And he didn’t need to worry about what anybody could say about his body. He had proof that someone found him sexy just as he was, liked his body the way it was. It was as if Dave had been given permission to be comfortable in himself. It was heady and he whistled on his way to the shower. 

In fact, he was so preoccupied, that he didn’t Meyers had stopped behind him until he said, “Fuck, Karofsky, who happened to your back?” 

“Wha?” Dave tried to rinse the suds from his eyes and calm his heart and blinked over his shoulder at Meyers. 

“Your back,” Meyers said, pointing. “Somebody got lucky.” 

“With a wildcat, it looks like,” Richman, the goalie, said. “Your pussy’s got some claws on her.” 

And then it clicked, and his mind flashed to the night before, already sated and on his knees, shirt lost years before, sucking Kurt as best he could as Kurt shuddered and swore, fingernails creating crescents just below Dave’s shoulder blades. He had come with a sharp cry, raking his hands up as he pulsed on Dave’s tongue. The marks had stung briefly, like sharp chili, before fading to a warm heat that had Dave stirring once more. 

“Heh, yeah,” Dave said, faintly. 

“Spill,” James, another defenseman, prompted to the enthusiastic cheers of the team. “Santana dumped your ass last year, and she doesn’t repeat. So who’s your mystery chick?” 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Dave said, proud of the way his voice didn’t shake. 

“She’s got a mouth on her, too,” Meyers said, eyes on Dave’s collarbone. Dave rolled his eyes and turned back, trying to hide as much of his front as he could. 

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with you staring at me naked, Meyers,” Dave said, deadpan. Meyers shrugged, unapologetic. 

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with you looking like you were attacked by the brides of Dracula, man.” Meyers said. “You should consider carrying a stake. 

Dave snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. Meyers continued to stare. “That meant stop lookin’ at me.” He paused. “Unless you _want_ to look at me naked.” 

Meyers laughed, but he stopped looking. On some level, Dave hated that just the implication of homosexuality was a trump card, but mostly Dave was just happy Meyers wasn’t looking at him. 

“You can’t hold out on us forever,” Anderson said, teasing. “At the very least, you need to share the wealth. Does she have sisters? Friends?” 

“Sorry,” Dave said. “You’ll have to find your own girls.” He turned off the water and dried off as quickly as he could, finally able to wrap the towel around his waist. He made his way back into the locker room, deliberately ignoring the look Cooper was giving him. 

Once in front of his locker, Dave felt his knees weaken and he sat on the bench before he could fall. That was close. Too close. Dave thought he handled it well, that they couldn’t tell how he played the pronoun game. The couldn’t suspect; not yet. Dave was safe. 

Safe, and kicking himself for forgetting about the marks on his skin. Dave had gotten used to marks on him very quickly, loved the way they would catch his eyes and he’d remember a kiss, or a bite, or a moment. And honestly, the football team (mostly Puck, but Mike and Finn, too) was so marked up anyway, Dave wouldn’t have even stood out. 

But Dave couldn’t sit there forever and wallow. He forced himself to stand, to pull out his boxers and deodorant, to pull on his undershirt and zip up his jeans. 

He could ask Kurt to slow down, to not mark him until after the season to avoid a repeat of today. 

Dave shook his head, trying to rid the thought through motion. The cat was out of the bag on that one. The team had seen him, they knew there was someone. A sudden stop to the marks would make them ask if “she” was available. To continue them would be to court disaster later, but it wouldn’t involve making Kurt stop doing what they both enjoyed. 

Maybe Kurt could help him figure it out. Dave grinned. He was going to dinner with Kurt. He was dating Kurt. Dave was Kurt’s boyfriend. And as soon as hockey was over, everybody was going to know it. Dave started to whistle once more. 

Dave was shrugging into his jacket when the last of the team left the showers. Meyers’s locker was just down from Dave’s and he nudged Dave’s shoulder as he walked past. “We’re going for pizza to celebrate. You in?” 

“Not tonight,” Dave said. “I’ve got plans.” 

Meyers leered. “You’re going to see your wildcat, aren’t you?” 

Dave just grinned. Because yes, Kurt was a wildcat, and yet, he was going to see Kurt. Keep an air of mystery and Dave might just be able to get away with this. Meyers laughed, punched his shoulder, and Dave left with a wave, already pulling out his phone. 

_out. where r u?_

Dave paused on the steps as he watched his phone for a response. The phone buzzed, lit up: 

_In the parking lot by your truck. :)_

Dave grinned, shoved his phone into his pocket, and jogged over to his truck his sports duffle bouncing along his back. 

Kurt stood on the far side of the cab, hidden from the building by shadow, and Dave didn’t even bother to look around as he pressed Kurt up against the door, kissing him. Kurt tasted like cocoa and pretzels and like something that could be nachos, and Dave licked into his mouth chasing the flavor. Soft stubble prickled around Kurt’s lips and it sparkled in Dave’s mind. It was amazing how _hot_ Dave found Kurt like this—when there was no denying Kurt’s _boy_ ness, and it sent heat through him as he thought about it. 

He pulled back, breathing heavily and Kurt hummed. “You taste like plastic.” 

“Mouth guard,” Dave said, quietly. “You hungry?” 

Kurt ran his eyes up and down Dave. “For many things.” 

Dave had to lean in, had to kiss Kurt again. “Food first,” Dave muttered into Kurt’s jaw as he traced a way to the point behind Kurt’s ear. “Then other hungers.” 

“Yes,” Kurt whispered back and reached into Dave’s pocket for the keys. Dave pulled back, let Kurt unlock the door and “helped” Kurt into the cab of his truck with a hand on Kurt’s ass. Kurt shot him a look over his shoulder at that, but had wiggled a little extra as he climbed over the wheel. Dave was one lucky bastard. He climbed in after and started the truck. 

“Heat’ll just take a minute,” Dave said as Kurt rubbed his arms. Kurt nodded, looked like there was something he wanted to say, but said nothing. 

Once they were out of the parking lot, Kurt scooted over on the seat, and pressed up against Dave. Dave wrapped his arm around Kurt and drove to the twenty-four hour diner on the outskirts of town. It was far enough away from McKinley that they were unlikely to run into anyone, and in Dave’s opinion, served the best burgers in town. 

There weren’t many diners after ten pm, but the waitress, Liz, recognized Dave from when he used to come here late at night with Az, and she was warm and ushered Dave and Kurt to a booth in the back. Liz winked at Dave as she handed over the menu, but it wasn’t until she had taken their drink orders (Coke and Diet Coke), that Dave was able to look around and see why. 

Their booth was isolated, almost private, and hidden from most of the dining room by the pastry case and tray rack. Dave had sat here before, again with Az, when Liz wanted to keep their rowdy behavior separate from the rest of the diners. Now, Dave realized she was still keeping them seperate, but for different reasons. 

Reasons like _date_ reasons. 

Which meant Liz knew; she could tell. Shit, was it that obvious? They’d never be able to keep it from the team and they were gonna find his beaten body in the locker room showers and—

“Dave, breathe, Babe,” Kurt said. “You just turned a funny color.” 

“Sorry,” Dave said, and gulped down one of the little waters Liz had brought over. “I just—Liz knows.” 

Kurt blinked. “ _Liz?_ Oh! The waitress.” Kurt sighed. “Well she seems okay with it,” Kurt said. “If the thumbs up she gave me was any judge.” 

“What?” Dave blinked. He hadn’t seen any thumbs up. 

Kurt’s foot nudged Dave’s and Dave caught Kurt’s foot between his own. Kurt was smiling at him. 

“Sometimes, when people find out, they’re charmed,” Kurt said. “Personally, I find that as confusing as the hate, but Liz seems to like us. So let’s celebrate your win, okay?” 

“Okay,” Dave said after a while. He sighed, and chuckled tiredly. “I’m sorry. I feel like you’re always talking me down from a ledge.” 

Kurt shrugged. “As long as it’s high enough, you’d survive with a parachute.” 

Dave snorted. “Thanks.” 

Kurt grinned and Dave grinned back and Liz brought over their drinks. She took their orders and left with some light teasing that never-the-less had Dave red in the face. And later, as Kurt laughed while trying to keep his burger in one piece, Dave realized that, if he didn’t love him before, he loved Kurt now. 

He opened his mouth to say as much, and stuffed a few fries inside instead. 

Not here. Kurt deserved something fancier than this for that, something that breathed romance. Dave wanted to appeal to Kurt’s romantic nature, to give Kurt some of that Hollywood that he’s dreamed about. 

Dave reached out with a french fry to dab ketchup on the tip of Kurt’s nose, just to see him squawk and swear revenge, eyes sparking and color high. Dave ducked as Kurt started pelting him with cold fries, still laughing. 

Yeah. Dave was going to have to pull out all the stops.


	2. Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overture in the Modern Musical: a potpourri of airs based on the tunes of the songs that were to follow.
> 
> or: 
> 
> setting the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to raving_liberal for betaing this chapter, and encouraging my ever-growing love of Azimio Adams.

Saturday, Dave felt antsy. He wanted to get out, _do_ something. In the past, when he felt like this, he grabbed his hat and his fake I.D and drove out to _Scandals_. But now—

Well, why couldn’t he? There was nothing that said Dave _couldn’t_ go. And to be perfectly honest, Dave wanted to show Kurt off a bit, tell his friends that he had gotten the guy. He hadn’t seen any of them since before Christmas. 

He’d see if Kurt wanted to go with him. He had a sudden image of Kurt pressed against his side, against him on the dance floor, sitting on his lap at a booth, and really, really, wanted Kurt to come. And if Kurt didn’t want to go, or couldn’t go, Dave would go anyway. 

_“_ Scandals? _”_ Kurt asked. His voice sounded tinny over the phone, but Dave could still hear his surprise. _“I haven’t been there since that night I saw you.”_

Dave shrugged, and dug through his bottom drawer for a clean pair of jeans. There was one pair he wanted, older than the rest and a bit tighter, that he figured Kurt might appreciate. “I know. But I haven’t seen my friends there in a while, and, well...” Dave trailed off. 

_“You want to show me off,”_ Kurt said, amused. 

“Well, can you blame me?” Dave said, pulling out another pair of—yes! Jackpot!—jeans. “For once, I want to walk in the room and make all the other guys jealous because they know the hottest guy in the room is going home with me at the end of the night.” 

_“Mm-hmm.”_

“You know it creeps me out when you do that,” Dave said. “You sound just like Mercedes.” 

Kurt laughed. _“Who do you think she learned it from?”_. 

“But seriously,” Dave said. “I want you to meet my friends. They had a lot to do with me accepting myself, and—” Dave sighed. He didn’t know how to put into words how much he wanted the guys to meet Kurt. It was a little bit to say “look what I did!” but more “look at me now!” and a desire for unity. 

_“What time are you picking me up?”_

Dave grinned. Kurt always seemed to know what Dave was thinking. “Be ready by eight.” 

***

Kurt must have been waiting by the door, because he was out of his house and walking to the curb before Dave could put his truck in park. It was too dark to see what Kurt was wearing other than his peacoat and a military-style hat, and Dave forced down a moment’s panic over his own clothes. They had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but Dave wasn’t used to such tight pants, and he couldn’t help shifting in his seat. Kurt opened the truck door and climbed in, shutting the door behind him and half-climbing over Dave’s lap to give him a warm kiss. Dave cupped Kurt’s cheek in his hand, so very happy to just be there that it was a few minutes before Kurt pulled back, both of them breathing harder than before. 

“You better start driving,” Kurt said, grinning. “Or I’m going to kiss you again, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop this time. And I don’t think I should introduce my father to the idea of me actually having sex by doing it parked in front of his house.” 

“Fair enough,” Dave said and put the car in drive. “You hungry at all? We can stop someplace on the way.” 

“Sure,” Kurt said. “I’ve been cracking down on Dad’s diet recently, and as a result, dinner was healthy, nutritious, and mostly vegetables.” 

Dave smirked at him. “Which means you want to stop, don’t you.” 

“Oh my God, I’m starving,” Kurt groaned, laughing and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I want something with bacon and cheese and maybe deep fried and grease—so much grease!” 

Dave bit his lip to keep from laughing. “We pass a Five Guys.” 

“Yes,” Kurt said. “Oh, peanut oil fries.” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Dave said. They stopped at a light, and Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt to scoot over next to Dave and buckle himself back in. 

“There,” Kurt said, “That’s better.” Then Dave heard a gurgling, and Kurt pressed a hand to his stomach, blushing hard enough that Dave could tell in the dark. “Sorry,” Kurt said. “I’m really hungry.” 

Dave chuckled. He knew there might a time when Dave didn’t think everything Kurt did was endearing, but right now, he would ride that high. “It’s alright, Sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll be there soon.” 

Kurt hesitated for a moment, but then rested his head on Dave’s shoulder. Dave couldn’t get his arm around Kurt the way he wanted to, but he was able to rest his hand on Kurt’s leg just above his knee. The silence between them was comfortable, and even the radio was turned down low, just an undercurrent of melody. Dave didn’t feel the need to speak, but wondered about that hesitation. Was it because Dave was driving? Lingering embarrassment over his stomach rumbling? Something Dave sai— _fuck!_

Dave cleared his throat. “Is...that okay?” he asked quietly.

“Is what okay?” Kurt asked just as quietly. 

“Um. That name?” Dave asked. Kurt turned to look at him; he was smiling, teeth glinting in the passing streetlights. 

“I kinda like it,” Kurt said. “It fits you, somehow.” 

Dave ducked his head, grinning as he turned back to the road. They stayed tucked against each other for the rest of the ride.

***

Dave wasn't nervous. Really. He grabbed Kurt's hand as soon as they walked through the door because it was crowded and he didn't want to lose him. It had nothing to do with being nervous. At all. Because he wasn't.

Really.

Sal was on the door tonight, and he let them through with a less-than-subtle thumbs up at Dave. Dave rolled his eyes, but stood a little taller for that.

It was as dark as usual inside the club, and they paused just inside the door to let their eyesight adjust. Dave saw the others first, waving at Mitch who saluted with his glass and waved them over. Steve, Ted, and Mike must not have seen them yet.

“You wanna meet everybody?”

Kurt looked over and grinned up at Dave. “You just want to show me off.”

“I just walked in with the hottest guy in Lima,” Dave said, guiding Kurt over to the table with a hand on the small of his back. “Damn right, I want to show him off.”

Kurt paused just out of earshot from the table, leaned back, and whispered in Dave’s ear, “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Kurt slid an arm around Dave’s waist and tucked his hand into Dave’s back pocket.

Score!

Steve was the first to say something. “Mitch, did you put something in my drink? ‘Cause it looks like Cubby’s got himself a date.”

Dave snorted. “At least I get my dates without chemical enhancers.”

Mitch threw his head back and laughed while Ted hid his grin behind his glass. Mike giggled, pointing at Steve.

“Cause you’re _old_ ,” Mike said.

Steve scowled. “Shut up, Mike.”

“Guys, this is Kurt,” Dave said.

“Oh, we know,” Mike said, grinning brightly. Kurt looked a little dazzled at the way his teeth shone even in the dim light. He held out a hand. “I’m Mike.”

“You know?” Kurt asked, taking Mike’s hand.

“Cubby here wouldn’t shut up about you,” Ted said, grinning at Dave. Dave knew he was red enough that everybody could see, and he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck.

“Ted,” he hissed.

Ted grinned back, and Dave knew why he and Mike got were able to stay married for so long. They had the same mischievous sense of humor. Ted held out his hand as well. “I’m Ted,” he said to Kurt. “Mike’s husband.”

“And I’m Mitch.” Mitch held out his hand, sleeve pushed up to show off his ink, and watched the way Kurt eyed his arm. “The reprobate next to me is Steve.” Steve scowled and snorted into his drink. “Don’t mind him. He’s just mad Cubby got one over on him.” He gestured to the next table over. “Pull up a chair.”

Dave snagged a chair from the next table over, but when he went to grab another, Kurt stopped him and pushed him down into the chair. Then, graceful as you please, Kurt sat on Dave’s lap. Dave grabbed Kurt’s waist out of reflex, to keep him from sliding off, and Kurt shot him a wicked grin over his shoulder.

Dave felt his eyebrows raise and couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread over his face when Kurt turned back to the table, and struck up a conversation with Mike about working in the Industry. Mitch smiled at Dave like a proud parent, and Ted was looking fondly between Mike and Dave. Steve was still sour, but he’d gone back to looking over the bar, so Dave knew he was almost out of his funk. Finally, Dave felt himself relax.

Here he was. In a gay bar. With his gay friends. With his gay boyfriend sitting in his gay lap. Where every gay could see. The guys would be making fun of him for the rest of eternity, but Dave couldn’t care. He was too damn happy.

They’d been there for about an hour when Kurt excused himself to find the restroom. Dave caught him around the waist as he tried to stand and pulled him into a warm kiss before letting him go. Back on his feet, Kurt smoothed his shirt down and left with a wink.

Steve turned to watch Kurt go, and Mitch smacked the back of his head, getting a grin from Dave.

“What?” Steve asked. He turned to Dave. “You trust him to go to the bathroom here? By himself? In those pants?”

Dave shrugged. He trusted Kurt and trusted he could take care of himself. He wasn’t a wilting flower, no matter how he sometimes played up the camp. Years of dance had left Kurt strong, and his months as a Cheerio had honed him to an edge. Dave wondered, sometimes, whether he was the only one who remembered that Kurt had been one of Sylvester’s. He knew Kurt had kept up the ninja training on his own.

Steve shifted back in his seat. “I wouldn’t trust the lowlifes in this place with someone in those pants.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ted said. “You’re one of them.”

Mike was practically bouncing in his seat. “How did it happen?! Last we heard you two were ‘just friends’.”

Dave shrugged. “We went to Sebastian’s party for New Year’s Eve.”

Steve nodded. “I see. You kissed him at midnight, he blew you in the cloak room.”

“What?!” Dave said, flushing red. “Sebastian doesn’t have a cloakroom.” It was all he could think to say, because really, that was kind of what happened. He looked around at the knowing grins at the table and sank into his seat. “I hate you all.” 

“We’re just happy for you, Cubby,” Mitch said. “You’ve been mooning over this guy since we’ve known you.” 

Dave felt the smile creep back over his face. “I still can’t believe it’s real, sometimes, you know?” 

“I know exactly how you feel,” Mike said, grinning at Ted, who blushed and turned to Dave. 

“I stopped trying to convince him that I’m supposed to be the one awestruck by him. Not everybody manages to snag a model.” 

“Looks fade,” Mike said. “Ted doesn’t.” 

Ted frowned and poked at his belly. “No, I just grow sideways.” 

“You are not fat.” Mike caught his hands. “Your weight is perfectly healthy. Just the way I want you. Now stop that.” 

Ted rolled his eyes, but kissed Mike when he leaned in, anyway. 

Across the table, Mitch and Steve pretended to gag. Ted flipped them off. 

“Oh, come on,” Steve said as Kurt came back to the table. “We have to watch you two be all couply-cutesy-disgusting every week. We need a break.” 

“Yeah,” Mitch said. “It’s Dave’s turn.” 

“You know,” Kurt said as he practically draped himself over Dave, “I completely agree.” Dave wrapped his arms around Kurt and buried his face in the Kurt’s neck, making Kurt giggle. 

“You know,” a new voice said, “I used to think watching you two pine over each other was bad. I was wrong. This is worse.” Dave slumped, feeling Kurt do the same. 

“Hello, Sebastian,” Kurt said, monotone. “How wonderful to see you.” 

“You feel graced by my presence, don’t lie,” Sebastian said. 

Dave snorted. “Oh that’s what that is. I thought it was heartburn.” He looked over, and Sebastian grinned at him. 

“Good one. I see the honeymoon hasn’t damaged your wit.” He paused for a moment. “The sheets in the guest room, however—” 

“Don’t start with us, Meerkat,” Kurt snapped, but Dave could see the smile lurking. Dave was really starting to like this possessive streak, even if it meant dealing with Kurt and Sebastian snarking at each other, and spilling more details of their sex life than Dave would have, otherwise. 

“I was just going to say I was proud,” Sebastian said. He leaned against the booth. “I’m not staying long. I just wanted to say hello. They’re playing my song, and I’m looking for a dance partner.” 

Kurt snorted. “That’s one way to put it,” he muttered. 

Sebastian looked the table over, looking Steve up and down. “What do you say, handsome? Care to dance?” 

Dave stared as Steve gave Sebastian the eye and grinned, standing. He was taller than Sebastian, but not by much. He flexed. “I’d love to dance. If you think you can keep up?” 

“Let’s find out,” Sebastian said, and Dave wasn’t sure quite who dragged whom to the dance floor. 

Dave looked back at the table to see matching expressions of surprise. “I feel...” Kurt said. “I don’t know how I feel. But that’s...” 

“You know in those sci fi movies,” Ted began. “At the beginning, something small happens but you just know watching it that it’s the moment when, like, the apocalypse has been set into motion? I feel like we’ve just witnessed that.” 

“It’s gonna be his apocalypse if he’s not careful,” Mitch muttered. “That boy has ‘jailbait’ written all over him. 

Dave said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Thank God they can’t breed.” 

Silence fell at the table as they all processed the idea of a brood of Sebastian/Steve hybrids. 

“I need a drink,” Mike said. “Dave, it’s your round.” Mike looked at the still pale faces. “You better make it a double.” 

***

Tuesday was the first GSA meeting of the new school year, so Monday, instead of meeting at the Lima Bean, Kurt and Sebastian met Dave at his house to watch him bake cookies. Dave almost hadn’t let Sebastian in the door after the other night, but being that the world hadn’t actually ended, let him in anyway. Kurt gave Sebastian a look for the first half-hour, anyway. Finally, Sebastian had snapped, saying if they kept looking at him like that, he’d give them _details._ Things had fallen back to normal pretty soon after that. 

Dave had decided on peanut butter cookies, the kind with the Hershey’s Kiss pressed into the top. As he pulled the cookies from the oven, Kurt and Sebastian topped them with Kisses. It was a good routine, and Dave had tripled the batch, so the cookies that were deemed “unacceptable,” and thus eaten warm, wouldn’t cut too deep into the supplies for the meeting.

He still ended up making sugar cookies as well, this time separating the batter into different bowls and mixing in different food dye. So, at the end of the night, he had peanut butter Kiss cookies and rainbow colored sugar cookies.

Sebastian had laughed at him when he had realized what Dave was doing. “Your closet’s starting to look pretty flimsy, Cubby.”

Dave just grinned at him and popped a purple cookie into his mouth.

On Tuesday, Dave left the cookies in his trunk, running out after the last bell to grab them. He was almost back inside when Coach Sylvester appeared in the doorway, blocking his path. He pulled up short.

“Uh… Hello, Coach.”

Sylvester looked him over, looked hard at the cookies, and said, “Domesticity suits you well, Cubby. You’ll make a good wife for Porcelain.”

Dave’s blinked. _What?_ It wasn’t the first time Dave wondered about Coach Sylvester’s sanity, but he wasn’t stupid enough to call her on it to her face.

Sylvester stepped in closer. “If you hurt him, I’ll get my contacts in the CIA to disappear you so completely, even your father won’t remember you existed. Clear?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Good!” She said. “I’ve given the same speech to Porcelain, though I threatened his skincare routine. You should have seen the look of sweet terror on his face. You’re one of mine now, Cubby. And we take care of our own.” 

“Yes, Coach,” Dave said. “Thank you, Coach.” Sylvester nodded and stepped back, disappearing down the hall. 

Dave shook his head and entered the school. From anyone else he’d have taken the threat as hyperbole, but Dave was pretty sure Sue Sylvester didn’t threaten anyone with anything she couldn’t follow up with. He wasn’t really worried, though. If Dave hurt Kurt, Sue would have to get in line. 

And what did she mean, one of hers? God, she wasn’t going to demand tribute, was she? Dave made a note to ask Santana what it meant. Hopefully she would know.

Dave was one of the last to arrive, and he headed straight for the table to set up the cookies. Kurt sidled up next to him after a moment, gently placing a hand on the small of Dave’s back. Dave turned and smiled, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and pulling him in for a chaste kiss hello. He wasn’t worried about anybody watching; almost everybody there had seen their kiss on New Year’s, and the few that hadn’t wouldn’t spread it around the school. They were safe, here.

“Hey,” Dave said.

“Hey, yourself,” Kurt said. “Did you see Coach Sylvester today?”

Dave nodded, and they separated so Dave could finish the cookies. “Yep. Threatened to ‘disappear’ me should anything happen to you.”

“Hmm,” Kurt said. “Her CIA contacts are scary.” Dave raised an eyebrow at Kurt— _For real?_ —but Kurt just reached out to adjust a plate.

The door to the classroom opened and the gentle hum of chatter died away. Dave felt his heart thump in his chest as he turned around, not sure what he’d see.

Az stood in the doorway, looking very out of place. It could have been because of his letterman—the other jocks in the room kept theirs off—but it was probably the way he shifted from foot to foot, as if unsure of his standing.

Which he was, Dave knew. They hadn’t spoken since Dave had come out to him, and he wasn’t entirely sure why Az was there. Dave knew what he hoped for, but was still braced in case Az was there to start shit. What shit he’d start with Sylvester _right there_ , Dave had no idea, but he wouldn’t put it past Az to try.

Dave knew he was staring, but he couldn’t say anything. His mind was blank. Luckily, someone else asked the question.

“What are _you_ doing here,” Berry demanded, five feet of righteous indignation with her fists on her hip. It looked like a terrier barking at an Akita, but Az shifted, uncomfortably.

“My best friend came out to me, and I didn’t handle it well,” Az said. “But he’s still my best friend, even if he likes dick,” (Dave closed his eyes. Dammit, Az!) “and if I’m gonna keep him, I gotta get me educated.” Az looked over at Dave for the first time. Dave had never seen Az look so unsure. “Am I too late for the meeting?”

Dave couldn’t speak for a moment, had to swallow past a suddenly tight throat. Kurt took his hand and Dave found his voice. “Nah. You’re just in time.”

Az grinned and walked forward, opening his arms, and Dave met him for a back-thumping bro-hug. He could feel Kurt rolling his eyes behind his back. Kurt had a lot to say on the boundaries of homosocial displays of affection, and Dave was looking forward to fucking with Az with it. Dave pulled away to see Berry looking at him with wide eyes, like they were made of puppies or something, and Dave just shook his head and steered Az over to Kurt. Dave wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. This was the test to see how sincere Az was being. 

But Az just looked at Kurt, held out his hand and said, “Look, I’m sorry I was such a dick to you. It really wasn’t right, and I realize that now.”

And Az meant it. Dave could tell; when Az lied his voice did this high-pitched wiggle thing that he refused to admit to. It made it great to play against him. If Dave could get Az talking, he knew all of his tells.

Kurt took Az’s hand. “Apology accepted. Thank you, Azimio.”

Az looked at Dave, grinned, and Dave felt a flash of dread. He knew that look; that was Az’s shit-giving look. “Nah, man,” Az said. “You’re with my boy now, right? Anybody who can put with his lame ass can call me Az.”

“I’d be careful with what you say around here,” Kurt said. “Somebody might take it the wrong way. For example, Dave has many wonderful qualities, and I happen to think his ass is one of them.”

Dave pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at the expression on Az’s face when it dawned on him just what Kurt meant. Dave clapped Az on the shoulder. “Get some cookies, man. We’re about to begin.”

Az looked like he was going to say something, but just shook his head and grabbed a handful of the peanut butter cookies. He took the empty seat in between Dave and Mercedes.

“Mercedes,” Az said.

“Azimio,” Mercedes said.

Dave exchanged a look with Kurt. Well. That explained a few things.

Ms. P arrived, closing the door after her, and the meeting began. There wasn’t much in the way of business, mostly going over how the second half of the year would run. Kurt made sure to ask everyone to come support the Glee Club at Regionals, and Artie said they were still looking for people for the musical.

They opened up discussion about anything that happened over break. Mostly, people had family vacations, nothing earth shattering, and a few people made sly references to seeing Dave and Kurt’s Big Gay New Year’s Eve Kiss. Rachel was dancing in her seat like she had to pee the entire time, antsy for _something_. Probably to pump Az for information regarding his change of heart. But she, surprise surprise, kept her mouth shut.

After the meeting, Kurt pulled Mercedes aside, while Dave turned to Az and said, “You’re helping me pack up the cookies.”

“You mean I’m helping you eat the cookies,” Az said. “I’ve missed your cookies, man. They are none of them making it out of here.”

Dave snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Just give a hand, will ya?”

Az stood and followed Dave to the table. It was _almost_ like the split had never happened, and Dave wasn’t kidding himself that it would be easy between them any time soon, but he felt better than he had in months knowing that, at the very least, Az was _trying._

“So,” Dave said. “Mercedes, huh?” 

Az gave Dave a look. “What? That woman is _fierce_.” 

Dave snorted. “Which means she won’t give you the time of day.” 

Az scowled. “I’m working my way up to it.” 

“Uh, huh,” Dave said. “Right.” 

Az scoffed. “Whatever, man,” he said, and shoved a cookie into his mouth. Dave stacked some of the Tupperware. The rest of the GSA slowly trickled out, until it was just Az and Dave by the cookies, and Mercedes and Kurt putting the chairs back in order. 

“How’d you two get talking, anyway?” Dave asked. 

Az shrugged and swallowed his cookie. “She walked up to me one day, bold as brass, and told me that I was three kinds of idiot for ditching you. When I told her it was none of her business, she just gave me that look.” Az leveled a look at Dave. “You know that look.” Dave knew that look. “And she said that it’ll be okay. She, being the official BFF of a gay man, would coach me on what it meant to _have_ a gay BFF.” Az narrowed his eyes at Dave. “I’m not calling you my ‘biffle’. You can forget about it.” 

Dave snorted. “I’m real torn up.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” Az laughed. “Anyway, we started talking. She’s been after me to get my ass to one of these meetings for a while.” Az shrugged, looking away. “I dunno. I guess it took me not seeing you over break for it to really sink in.” 

Dave smiled at Az, and waited for Az to look up. Az scowled. “What’s wrong with your face?” 

Dave opened his arms wide. “Come on. You wanna hug me.” 

“What?” Az said, backing up a step. Dave followed. “Man, quit it!” 

“Hug me!” Dave grinned. He’d only keep it up for another minute. He saw Az look at something out of the corner of his eye, and roll his eyes up, like he was pleading with the heavens. Dave kept his arms out and a moment later, Az stepped into them, wrapping Dave in a big bear hug. “Ooph!” Az squeezed far too tightly, and Dave squeezed back, turning it into a contest. He heard Mercedes sigh, exasperated, and he thumped on Az’s arm until he let go. 

“Fucker,” Dave said, trying to catch his breath. 

“Aw, don’t be sore just ‘cause I’m awesome.” 

Dave rolled his eyes and grabbed the Tupperware. “You’re a dick.” 

Az grinned. “Yeah, well then, it’s a good thing you _like_ dick.” 

Dave heard Kurt stifle a giggle, and Dave leaned back. “Look at you. Making jokes.” 

Az shrugged and grabbed the last sugar cookie, a red that ended up more pink. “What?” he said. “Our entire friendship is based around giving each other shit, no limits. It has been extremely unfair that I have been giving you shit for girls when I should have been giving you shit for guys.” Az shrugged. “Way I see it, I got years of bustin’ your ass to catch up on.” 

“Watch it,” Dave said. “Don’t wanna make Kurt jealous.” 

“That’s right,” Kurt sing-songed as he walked past with a chair. “That ass is mine.” 

Az made that face again. “You know. You’re my brother-from-another-mother and all. And I feel like a real shit that I haven’t been here for you. But what you and Hummel get up to when you get freaky? I really don’t need to know the details.” 

“Sure?” Dave asked. “I guarantee it’s better than anything you’re gettin’.” 

“Oh no, he didn’t,” Mercedes said. “Kurt, you gonna let him get away with that?” 

“Away with what?” Kurt asked. “The truth?” 

“White boy,” Mercedes said. “What have you not been telling me?” 

Az covered his ears with his hands. “Oh, I don’t want to know.” 

Kurt blinked at Mercedes innocently. “Moi?” he said. “Keep secrets?” Dave folded his arms and watched Kurt. Dave knew the tips of his ears were red. He figured it would take a while before he could talk about his sex life in public without turning some shade of red. 

Mercedes pointed at Kurt. “I am coming over tonight. I am bringing the ice cream and the movies. You are providing the popcorn and the deets. Deal?” 

Kurt looked over at Dave, and Dave realized he was asking permission. Did Dave really want Mercedes to know details about their sex life? 

Dave thought about the night after New Year’s, when Kurt had freaked out on him. Dave knew Kurt had some image issues, hell Karofsky had probably contributed to a few of them, but he also knew that most were left over from The Ex. If Kurt telling Mercedes would help Kurt believe that Dave could want him, like, _all the time_ , then Dave was fine with it. He nodded, and Kurt grinned, turning back to Mercedes. 

“Fine. But I demand something classy.”

“Shakespeare?” Mercedes asked, eyebrow raised.

Kurt nodded. “Shakespeare.” 

Dave and Az shared a look. _Shakespeare? For a gossip session?_ Az shrugged his shoulders and Dave nodded. _Weird._

Az leaned in. “Call of Duty?” 

Dave nodded. “Call of Duty.” 

Mercedes rolled her eyes at them. “Boys. You are so uncultured.” 

“Us?” Az said. “You’re the one watching fuckin’ Shakespeare. That’s, like, against teen culture. That’s old people culture.” 

Mercedes and Kurt giggled, and Dave narrowed his eyes. “What are they really?” 

“Shakespeare,” Mercedes said. “Modern adaptations.” 

“ _She’s The Man. Ten Things I Hate About You. Clueless._ They’re all adaptations of Shakespeare. _Twelfth Night. Taming of the Shrew_.” Kurt paused. “Well, _Clueless_ is _Emma_ , but it’s wonderful, so whatever.” 

“Okay, then,” Dave said. “You have fun.” He picked up the last piece of Tupperware. “Ready to go?” Kurt took Dave’s hand, and the four of them left the room. Az went to wait by Dave’s truck as Dave walked Mercedes and Kurt to the Nav. Kurt let Mercedes in and paused by the driver’s side door so Dave could kiss him goodbye. 

Dave didn’t think he could ever get enough of kissing. “Call me later?” he asked against Kurt’s mouth. 

“Once Mercedes leaves,” Kurt promised. He climbed into the Nav, and Dave waved as Kurt pulled out of the lot. Az shook his head when Dave finally appeared at his truck. 

“What?” Dave asked, unlocking the doors. 

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, man,” Az said. “Hummel has you whipped.” 

Dave rolled his eyes and opened his door. “I thought you didn’t want to know the details, Az.” 

“What are you...?” Az asked as he climbed into the cab. He paused, halfway in. “Aw, for real?” 

Dave laughed. “Get in, loser. I’ve got to beat your ass at video games.” 

“I don’t want to hear about you beatin’ _anything_ are we clear?” 

Dave started his truck and turned up his radio. Az groaned, but Dave just grinned wider and began to sing along. _”It’s a new dawn/It’s a new day/It’s a new life/for me/And I’m feelin’ good.”_

“You and your weird-ass music.” 

***

Paul was obviously surprised when he came home to find Az playing with Dave, but he was also pleased. So pleased, he sprang for pizza for the three of them. Dave drove Az home after, and when Az hopped out of the cab, he held his fist out to Dave. Dave bumped it, and Az went inside. Dave sat in his truck for a long moment before he pulled away from the curb. 

It had been a good day. It would be a while before he and Az returned to their former friendship—there had been a few times when Az was _very deliberately_ repressing his first instinct—but over all, Dave had hope.

Things were finally starting to look up.

So naturally, everything fell apart on Wednesday. 

“No,” Dave said, pulling his history book from his locker. It was a dangerous operation as it was on the very bottom. They had gotten it the first day and they were just using it now. Dave wondered why they bothered. He was pretty sure if he cracked it open it would be full of cobwebs. “I’m sorry, Artie. I’m not going to try out for the musical.” 

“Why not?” Artie asked. “We need a baritone. You’re a baritone—” Dave looked around, trying to shush Artie, but Artie kept on, “it’s perfect!” 

“It’s stupid!” 

“Don’t be hatin’,” Artie said, pressing a gloved hand over his heart. “I was on the field with you last Thanksgiving, Dave. I know what you look like when you perform.” 

“Yeah,” Dave said, slamming his locker. “I look like someone about to get his ass kicked by the hockey team.” 

Artie waved him off. “You’re bigger than they are. You can take ‘em.” 

“Not it they attack at once!” Dave shook his head. “I’m sorry Artie.” 

Artie narrowed his eyes. “I’ll get Kurt,” he said. “If I were you, I’d be more afraid of him than of the hockey team.” 

Dave raised an eyebrow. “I can handle Kurt.” 

“No,” Artie pointed a finger. “You can fondle Kurt.” 

_“Artie!”_

“There’s a difference.” 

Dave sighed and counted backwards from ten. “What do I have to do to get you to stop asking?” 

“Submit,” Artie said. “Resistance is futile.” 

“Not a chance in hell.” The bell rang, and Dave darted around Artie’s chair. “Later, Artie.” 

“You will be mine, Karofsky!” Artie yelled down the hall after Dave. Dave ducked into his classroom and pretended he hadn’t heard. Because he didn’t miss performing.

At all. 

Shut up.

***

The Universe was conspiring against him. 

Hockey practice that night was kicked off by a Public Service Announcement from Coach Sylvester. 

Coach Sylvester burst through the locker room doors, catching several of his teammates literally with their pants down. Luckily, Dave had been running behind (his lips were still tingling from Kurt’s kisses, and he had sprinted from the third floor boys bathroom to avoid being too late), and was still fully dressed. 

Standing at the front of the locker room, feet braced and arms akimbo, her megaphone tucked against her left hip, Sylvester surveyed the room.

“It has been brought to my attention,” she said, “that some of you rink rats are graduating seniors. Congratulations. In a few months, I will officially not have to ever see your sniveling faces again. As for the rest of you, you will soon be applying to colleges. And colleges like well-rounded students. Like I was.”

She glared. “But as none of you have the advantage of being me and having a globe-trotting mother who insisted you know a language a year between the ages of eight and eighteen, you will have to show your skills elsewhere. Which is why I, Coach Sylvester, am implementing a mandatory arts requirement for all athletes.” 

The team started to murmur and one brave soul called out, “Can you do that?” 

Sylvester barely turned in that direction. “Can you kill a man with a thumbtack and some uncooked spaghetti?” 

“Uh...no?” The kid, one of the third-stringers, said. “What?” 

“Huh. Shame,” Sylvester said. “I can.” 

The kid blanched and looked away. 

“As I was saying,” Sylvester said. “There are many opportunities in this school for rounding out your education. Such as the art club or the yearbook. I’d say my Cheerios, but we can’t fit any more seating on the private jet. And, of course, there’s always the spring musical and Schuester’s idiotic glee club.” Sylvester snarled once before regaining her composure. “You have a choice, but you must pick one.” 

Then, because this was his life, Sylvester turned to look _straight at Dave._

“Except for you, Baloo. You’re in the musical. Congratulations.” 

Sylvester nodded at them all and was gone in a flash of blue tracksuit. Dave stared at the closed door. Artie was behind this, he had to be. 

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” 

***

Practice was brutal that night, as if the coach knew she’d be having half of her team splitting their attention between hockey and... whatever. Dave practically fell on the Elios Pizza in his freezer and flopped onto the sofa with his prize.

He forced himself to wait until he found something to watch before he took a bite of his pizza. The cheese still stung his mouth, but it was oh so worth it.

_Man vs Food_ was on the TV, and Adam Richmond was sweating his way through a spice challenge. It looked like he was eating green ice cream cones, but apparently it was sushi? _Weird_. Dave shook his head. 

Halfway through eating his pizza, Dave pulled out his phone. He texted a quick _kiss_ to Kurt on a whim, then brought up a message to Artie. 

_k, asshat. in ur play. what u do to coach s?_

Dave had only a few bites of pizza left when his phone buzzed. It was Artie. _lmfao! not me, yo. shue said something._

Dave rolled his eyes. Of course. _not singing on stage._

His phone buzzed as he typed, and when Dave checked, Kurt had texted him back. _Kiss! Skype?_

_5 min_ Dave typed back to him. He shoved the last of the pizza in his mouth and stood, shutting off the TV as he passed. He still didn’t really want to move, but he’d rather not move Skyping with Kurt than not move _not_ Skyping with Kurt. 

His phone chimed again on his way up the stairs, and Dave checked it while he booted up his laptop. 

Artie, again. _you’d make such a great Audrey 2!_

_i have no idea what that is_ Dave texted back, and opened Skype. Kurt was already online, and Dave clicked his name, sending the call. The program beeped and a second later, Kurt’s face appeared on his screen. 

“Hey, Babe!” Kurt grinned at him. 

“Hey,” Dave said and rolled his eyes when his phone chimed. 

“Who’s that?” Kurt asked as Dave checked his phone. 

“Artie,” Dave said. “ _u have to sing, man. ur voice!_ ” Dave grumbled, “I don’t want to sing on stage.” 

Kurt grabbed his own phone. “Tell him you’ll work crew.” 

“Crew?” Dave asked, but he typed it into his phone anyway. 

“Behind the scenes,” Kurt said, he put his phone away and propped his chin on his hand. “We’re always looking for big strong men like you to help with the heavy lifting.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Dave said. He sat back in his computer chair and tucking his hands behind his head and flexed his arms to see the way Kurt’s gaze darkened and smile turn hungry. It was a real damn ego boost to have Kurt so visually appreciative of his form; he’d never have been able to flirt this way before they had gotten together. 

“Mm-hm,” Kurt said. “I’ve always been partial to crew members, myself. All of those... muscles. Did I ever tell you that?” 

Dave slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t believe you have.” 

“Mmm,” Kurt said. He leaned back in his chair, running the tips of his fingers down his throat to play with the top button on his shirt. “It’s a... deep seated fantasy of mine.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dave said. His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat, eyes fixed on Kurt’s fingers. He used to think that once you saw everything, there was no tease left. But Dave had certainly seen all of Kurt, and that just made it worse; now he _knew_ exactly what he was missing, all that pale skin and lean muscle, and Kurt was dangling it right out of his reach. “You going to tell me about it?” 

Kurt’s fingers popped the button, and his hand trailed down to stroke along his collarbone. “You really want to hear?”

“Oh, yes,” Dave said, shifting in his seat. He was already hard, had been hard since Kurt first started to tease. He wanted to know, wanted to watch Kurt lose himself to the fantasy. He’d never really thought this was something he’d want to, or even be able to, do; Kurt seemed to be opening his eyes to all sorts of possibilities. 

“Well...” Kurt bit his lip. “It’s after hours in the auditorium. The actors have all gone, but I’ve stayed behind. I want to practice my monologue. But when I get to the stage, one of the crew members has also stayed behind. He’s big and strong, hand-sanding some detail work on the set. He’s wearing old jeans and they’re obscenely tight, ripped in a few places letting the skin show through, and it’s warm enough that he’s taken his shirt off. I can see his muscles glistening under the stage lights.” 

Kurt paused, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment even as his eyes darkened—Dave loved how Kurt looked when he was this turned on; it was like all his colors brightened—then said quickly, like he was confessing, “That crew member turned into you right after Halloween, when I saw how you looked in your costume. That shirt didn’t do much to hide how strong you are or how hairy.” Kurt breathed out hard. “Manly.” Kurt smoothed his hands down the front of his chest. “Sexy.” 

Dave’s eyes followed the path of Kurt’s hands, and Dave got an idea. “So, like this?” Dave said, and pulled his shirt up over his head. He heard Kurt’s breath catch, and when he looked back, Kurt was staring, one hand rubbing absently up and down his stomach. 

“Yes,” Kurt said. “You startle me when I re-enter the stage, but you say you’re okay with me being there if I’m okay with you. I do, and I start to rehearse, but I can see you working and I can barely concentrate. It doesn’t take long before I’m just staring, watching you work, trying to record it all to memory because I know I’ll be touching myself to the image of you bent over the workdesk for _years_.” It was the second time Kurt had made reference to bending Dave over in his fantasy. Dave wasn’t dumb, he knew what that said about Kurt’s desires, and Dave really didn’t have a problem with that. Like, at all. He was looking forward to it, and just thinking about it, what Kurt would do with Dave half-naked and posed like that, made his cock twitch. He reached down a hand and unbuttoned his jeans, and watched Kurt’s eyes follow his hand down. “When you notice me staring,” Kurt said, breathless, “You smile and ask, ‘You like what you see?’” 

Dave grinned because, yeah, it was cheesy but it was something he’d actually say. Kurt stuck out his tongue. “I said it was a fantasy. I never said it was well-scripted.” Dave just grinned wider; that meant, on some level, Kurt _liked_ Dave kinda cheesy. 

“So,” Dave said. “You like what you see?” He flexed his muscles, and Kurt nodded. 

“‘Yes,’ I say, and you walk over. You’re even bigger up close, and now that you’re standing I can see just how tight your pants are and how big your cock is.” The words echoed in Dave’s ear for a moment, driving it home that _this is sex_ , and it seemed to do the same for Kurt, because he chewed his lip for a moment before he grinned and said, “Fantasy, I’m happy to say, fell short of reality.” Dave grinned. 

“You smell like musk and sawdust,” Kurt said, running his hand along the waistband of his pants. It hovered at the bottom of the screen, and Dave leaned in, like maybe then he could see more. “You stand so close, and I can’t think.” 

“You can touch, you know,” Dave said, playing along with the scene Kurt was building, but Kurt popped the button on his pants and shoved his hand inside, his head falling back, and Dave knew he was staring, that his mouth was hanging open, but it didn’t matter because Kurt was touching himself while Dave watched. Even if he couldn’t see— “Let me see,” Dave breathed. He had no idea he had even said anything until Kurt’s eyes flew open and he stared at Dave, as if he had forgotten what they were doing. 

“I haven’t finished,” Kurt said, but his voice was strained, lower than normal, and Dave swallowed, pushing the heel of his hand against his own cock. Kurt whimpered, still moving his hand.

“Please,” Dave said. “We can try to get through it next time, I promise, I just—fuck, Kurt, let me see you.” 

Kurt closed his eyes and bit his lip, like he was trying to get some kind of control, and then he stood, chair scooting back, but it didn’t matter because now Dave could _see_ , the camera showing Kurt from mid thigh. “You, too.” Kurt said, and Dave rolled his chair back, letting Kurt see just how turned on he was, pants open and the tip of his cock poking through. 

_”Fuck,”_ Kurt breathed, and pushed his pants down to his knees, fisting his cock and stroking, fast and twisting, and Dave groaned and pushed his pants out of the way, because he remembered that touch. That was how Kurt touched him, and that _was how Kurt touched himself_ , and Dave wrapped his hand around his cock and tried to match the pace, pretend it was Kurt touching him, and it was so hot, it was _crazy_ how hot—they hadn’t even gotten to the sex in the fantasy and here they were—and Dave was so close, and he knew Kurt was close, he already knew what Kurt looked like when he was about to come, the way his neck strained, and he forgot to breathe, and his skin would flush in patches, and his hips pumped the air once twice—

Then Kurt was coming, spurting over his hand in thick streams, and Dave felt his own orgasm hit like a zap to the balls, sudden and electric, and he jerked so hard he tasted blood, realized he’d bit his tongue, but the aftershocks were making him twitch and he just couldn’t care.

Kurt sat heavily on his desk chair. “We are so doing that again,” he said.

“Oh, definitely,” Dave said. He grinned at Kurt and Kurt started to laugh, even as he finally pulled his hand away and made a face at the mess.

“I’m just going to—“ Kurt gestured to the bathroom, and shuffled away, not bothering to pull up his pants. Dave watched him go, because, well, Kurt’s ass was pretty much perfect, and then reached for the tissues. He cleaned himself up as best he could and realized his phone was blinking.

A text from Artie. _Crew it is. i’ll give u the deets 2morrow._

Dave closed his phone and grinned. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find a way to make this fantasy a reality. Suddenly, Dave was much more on board with this whole musical thing.


	3. Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stage has been set, and events are put into motion as the Valentines Day dance draws ever nearer, and rehearsal begins for the school musical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to raving_liberal, who has not only beta'd me faithfully, but has been bugging me to post :) Your enthusiasm keeps me honest, dear. 
> 
> So, getting back into the swing of things after Hurricane Sandy. I meant to have two chapters for you today, but alas, that was not to be. Regular weekly posting has resumed, however.

They weren’t even fully out of January when Dave saw the first sign for the Valentine’s Day dance. Kurt was, surprisingly, less than enthused.

“Oh great,” Kurt said, and Dave turned. He hadn’t heard Kurt come up behind him. Kurt gestured to the poster that was more glitter than oak tag. “That’s just what this cesspit of hormones needs.”

Dave raised his eyebrows. “Wow, bitter much?” he asked, a little hurt. Dave kinda liked the idea of a dance. He’d rather it be an event where he could take Kurt without fear, but there was an ever-growing part of him that was just tired of saying “no.” Dave knew he’d get there eventually, and he wasn’t going to be happy if Kurt never wanted to go.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I’ve spent far too long single on Valentine’s Day to see it as anything other than a chance to rub one’s happiness in someone else’s face.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“You’re not single this year,” Dave said, quietly. He was proud of himself. He didn’t even look around first.

Kurt’s expression softened. “True. I’m not. But I’m still not in a position to rub anything in anyone else’s face.”

Dave grinned. “Well, not in public.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Kurt snorted.

“Don’t make those promises if you’re not going to follow through.”

Dave held a hand to his chest. “I always follow through. I can’t help it if there’s a time-delay.”

Kurt hmmed and turned back to the poster. “God, it’s like Rachel Berry threw up on it.”

Dave laughed, and an idea came to him. “Look, do you want to go to the dance?”

Kurt hesitated, but nodded, looking smaller than he ever should. “Yeah,” he said. He laughed bitterly. “I actually really do.”

Dave shrugged. “Then we’ll go.”

“It’s still hockey season,” Kurt said.

“So I can’t dance with you where my teammates will see,” Dave said. “We can still dress up and go out, and everybody who matters will know the truth, and we’ll drink horrible punch and mock the music and then have some ill-thought out and rushed sex in the back of the Nav,” Kurt giggled here. “Just like every other high school romance.”

“You’re a real sweet-talker, you know that, Dave?” Kurt said dryly.

Dave shrugged. “I try.” He bumped Kurt’s shoulder. “You in?”

“I can’t believe it, but I’m in,” Kurt said. “But I get to pick out your suit.”

“As long as it’s one I already own, sure.”

It was as if that conversation opened the floodgates. _Everybody_ was talking about the dance. Even Az was talking about it. In history, Dave once again found the seat next to Az empty, as if nothing had changed. He dropped into the seat with a sigh, and Az leaned over, thankfully talking quietly.

“Hey man, tell me straight,” Az looked Dave over. “If you can.”

“Funny guy,” Dave said. He rolled his eyes to cover the way he scanned the room. Nobody was listening.

“What’re my chances with Mercedes?”

Dave blinked. “In what context? Because I’m pretty sure she can take you in a fight.”

“No. Fucker,” Az said with elaborate patience. “If I ask her to the dance.”

“To the…” Dave blinked. “Az, she has a boyfriend. She’s dating Evans, remember?” 

“Yeah,” Az said. “True.” Dave shook his head and turned back to his notes. 

But the real surprise was Santana the following period.

“I’m bringing Britt. As my date.” 

Dave felt his eyes go wide and he slowly turned his head to look at her. Santana wasn’t looking at him—wasn’t looking anywhere but her desk top. 

“You sure about that?” 

Santana clenched her jaw, and Dave saw the muscle twitch. “No. I’m scared fucking shitless. But she deserves more than I’m giving her, so...” She shrugged. 

“Are you ready for that?” Dave asked. Because he really didn’t think that she was. She _could_ weather it, but he didn’t know if she _should. ___

__“I’m going to have to be.” She looked over at Dave and scowled. “What? You don’t think I can take it?”_ _

__Dave shrugged. “I think coming out for someone else may sound more noble than it actually is.”_ _

__“It’s not—” Santana fumed. “It’s not for her. It’s because—because she makes me want to be a better person, as fucking cliche at that is.” Santana grabbed her textbook and slammed it onto the desk. “Is that _okay_ with you?” _ _

__“Yeah,” Dave said. He grabbed his own textbook. He thought about the past year—how far he’d come and how much of that was Kurt’s influence. “Makes perfect sense.”_ _

__Santana’s expression didn’t soften—she didn’t do soft with anyone but Brittany—but it was less hard._ _

__Dave turned back to his textbook. It was brave, really brave, to talk to Dave about this here. She may be coming out, but she wasn’t out yet._ _

__Looks like Santana had her own baby steps._ _

__***_ _

__Dave arrived at the first rehearsal half-expecting to be press ganged into song. Instead, Coach Sylvester grabbed him, made a comment about guys like him being good with his hands—which he was pretty sure was some creepy innuendo/vague threat: he _to be good with his hands, or else—and brought him over to the side where a couple of drama geeks were hunched over blueprints.__ _

___Dave was a fan of blueprints._ _ _

___The guy in charge—Chris—was a guy Dave barely recognized. He thought the guy might have been in his math class in sophomore year. Still, he gave Dave his assignment. They had to clean and paint the stage before they could begin to build anything, so Dave grabbed a broom._ _ _

___Kurt showed up not long after, and Dave’s mind flashed back to the night before. Judging by the pink in Kurt’s face, he was thinking the same thing. Dave caught sight of Coach Sylvester and threw his attention back to his broom. He thought he might have heard Mercedes snicker, but there was no way Kurt told her… was there?_ _ _

___Not thinking about it. That way lies madness._ _ _

___Kurt and the other actors, most of the glee club and a few unfamiliar faces that Dave thought might be in the drama club, were huddled around the piano, singing along and learning the music. He could make out some of what they were saying, but not all, and the bits he was hearing… what was this play about, anyway?_ _ _

___Dave traded his broom in for a mop and let his mind relax into the repetitions, his ear on the music. As he relaxed, he began to sway into the work, not quite dancing with the mop, but closer than he’d ever admit to._ _ _

___Once the mopping was finished, Chris looked over Dave’s clothes and said, “Next is painting. You okay to paint in that?”_ _ _

___Dave looked down at himself. It had been rainy that morning, so he had worn his old, beat up sneakers. His jeans were about to bust at his knee. It was only his shirt that he didn’t want damaged, and since he had thought to wear an undershirt today, that wasn’t really an issue._ _ _

___“Yeah, just…” Dave peeled off his shirt and dropped it onto his backpack. It was chilly without it, but Dave figured he’d warm up quickly. “All set.”_ _ _

___Chris looked him over again, and Dave was sure he saw Chris hesitate over the mark on Dave’s neck; Dave was just happy the teeth marks had faded to the point where it could have been just a bruise. Luckily, Chris didn’t say anything, and just told Dave to start carting paint cans and grab a roller._ _ _

___Painting the floor was a lot harder than Dave thought it’d be. The roller took more force than a broom or a mop, and Dave could feel himself flush with exertion. The others mostly talked shop around him, reminiscing about previous shows. Then one of the others, a girl with purple streaks in her hair who was standing to stretch her back from where she was painting the edging with a sour looking boy, asked Dave what brought him to work crew._ _ _

___It was on the tip of his tongue to say “I thought I’d impress my boyfriend,” because he was surprisingly relaxed and relaxed meant honesty. Instead, he told the next truth: “Press ganged by Coach Sylvester.” Dave smiled slightly. “But I’m friends with Artie, and he’s been pushing, anyway.”_ _ _

___“Friends with the director, huh?” Purple-hair said. She stuck out her hand. “Better than the casting couch. I’m Suz.”_ _ _

___“Dave,” he said, taking her hand._ _ _

___“Yeah, I know.” Suz grinned. “You’re kinda famous.”_ _ _

___The boy at her feet snorted into his paint cup. “More like infamous.”_ _ _

___Dave felt his heart sink. “Look, I know I was a jerk for a long time, but there were things then that aren’t things now, and I’m trying to be better.” How far had his past behavior spread?_ _ _

___“We know,” Suz said. “Andy’s just being bitchy.” Andy stuck his tongue out at her. There was something about the movement, the mannerism, that pinged something in the back of Dave’s mind. It took a moment, then Dave was sure. Andy was gay, he had to be, and Dave wondered why he had never seen him at a GSA meeting. Suz looked Dave over again. “Tell me, Dave. What’s your opinion on Pink Floyd?”_ _ _

___Andy groaned. “Here we go.”_ _ _

___“Uh,” Dave said. “They’re okay, I guess. I like _The Wall_.”_ _ _

___Suz waved her hand. “Everyone likes _The Wall_. What about Led Zeppelin?”_ _ _

___“I like ‘Kashmir,’” Dave said. It was one of his favorites on Guitar Hero. “And I think Stairway’s overrated.”_ _ _

___Suz squawked, and Andy laughed. “Sorry, Suz. I think he’s one of mine.” Andy turned to Dave. “We’ve been fighting over Pink Floyd vs Zeppelin for almost a year.”_ _ _

___Dave nodded. Right. Still, it was no crazier than some of the long arguments he’s had with Az. Fucker still thought Jack Nicholson made a better Joker. “Sorry I couldn’t help,” Dave said. “Just not my kind of music, I guess.”_ _ _

___“Which means there _is_ a type you like,” Suz said._ _ _

___Dave rolled his eyes. “Of course.” He went nearly eighteen years without it being an issue, and now everybody was all about the music. Maybe the glee club was having a bigger impact than they realized. He’d talk to Kurt about it._ _ _

___Andy sneered. “It’s not the Top 40, is it?”_ _ _

___“No,” Dave said. “That’s Az all the way. I like…” he paused, trying to categorize his tastes. “I like singers that actually sing, and horns. I’m a big fan of horns and complexity.”_ _ _

___Suz looked surprised, and Andy looked less dour. “Really?” Suz said. “I’d expected, I dunno, hard rock at least.”_ _ _

___“Because I’m a jock?” Dave asked. “It’s true that I like some of it, but mostly I like bluesy jazz, like Nina Simone.” He grinned. “ _Oh, Sinnerman, Where you gonna run to,_ ” he half-sang._ _ _

___Suz narrowed her eyes, thinking. “You ever listen to Delta Rae?”_ _ _

___Dave shook his head. He’d heard _of_ them, but never heard them._ _ _

___“Look ‘em up. I think you’ll like them.”_ _ _

___“Thanks,” Dave said, pleasantly surprised, and turned back to his paint when Suz hunkered back down with her brush. At the piano, Senor Schuester and Artie gave directions, then called a “take five.”_ _ _

___The crew was about halfway done with the stage, and Dave wondered what was next. He heard booted footsteps walk carefully towards him. “I hope you wore black shoes today,” Dave said, not turning around. He saw Andy give him a look, but behind him, Kurt laughed._ _ _

___“You mean you don’t know?”_ _ _

___“I mean I have better things to look at than your feet.”_ _ _

___“Mm-hmm,” Kurt said, and Dave paused what he was doing to look._ _ _

___“Well,” Dave said, opening his arms. “I’m here.”_ _ _

___“Yes, you are,” Kurt said, leaning forward like he was going to kiss Dave, but stopped before he made the move too obvious. Looked like Dave wasn’t the only one feeling comfortable. Dave smiled, knowing, and Kurt clasped his hands in front of him. “So, are you enjoying yourself?”_ _ _

___“Actually, yeah,” Dave said. “It’s kinda fun, almost.” He shrugged. “I can _see_ the difference, you know._ _ _

___“I do,” Kurt said, like he was speaking of something else entirely. Dave had a feeling it might have been him. He cleared his throat._ _ _

___“So this musical,” Dave said. “What’s it about?”_ _ _

___Kurt stopped, stared. “You don’t know _Little Shop of Horrors_?”_ _ _

___Dave shrugged. “Should I?”_ _ _

___“Uh…yes?” Kurt said. “It’s only… look. It’s a musical made from a horrible B movie. It’s got aliens and murder and Rick Moranis._ _ _

___Dave blinked. “Tully? From Ghostbusters?”_ _ _

___“Yes,” Kurt said. “That’s it. I’m coming over tonight and I’m bringing it with me.”_ _ _

___“Sounds good,” Dave said. Kurt grinned, winked, and stepped carefully away._ _ _

___“I’m surprised,” Suz said once Kurt was back at the piano. Dave looked at her. “I mean, I know you two could get along with the whole club thing, but I didn’t realize you were actually friends.”_ _ _

___“Starting the GSA was good for both of us,” Dave said after a pause. He hadn’t realized how many people knew about him and Kurt from _before_. “And Kurt’s a great guy. I’m lucky.”_ _ _

___“Very,” Suz said and turned back to her painting. At the piano, Kurt stepped up to practice a solo. Dave painted faster._ _ _

___***_ _ _

___Dave’s dad would be gone for at least an hour, but they had no time to waste. Dave let Kurt in and pressed him back against the front door._ _ _

___“Dave,” Kurt gasped._ _ _

___“Dad’s not home,” Dave said. “We have time.” He grabbed Kurt by his thighs and Kurt jumped, wrapping his legs around Dave’s middle, pulling his face up into fierce kisses as Dave walked them into the living room. He dropped Kurt as gently as he could onto the couch and reached for Kurt’s belt, fingers shaking as Kurt touched every part of Dave that he could reach. A final tug, and Kurt’s pants popped open._ _ _

___“I can’t,” Dave said, dropping to his knees. “Please.”_ _ _

___“Can’t what?” Kurt said, panting and sitting up a little to look at Dave._ _ _

___“Wait,” Dave said._ _ _

___“Then don’t,” Kurt said, falling back because Dave was already leaning in, wrapping his lips around Kurt’s cock, swallowing to get it deeper and _fuck_ , Dave was drooling over this, over a cock in his mouth, over _Kurt’s_ cock, and he just wanted to feel Kurt coming apart around him._ _ _

___And Kurt was, shaking and moaning, clutching at Dave’s head, chanting a litany of, “Fuck, suck me, fucking suck me.” Dave took a deep breath and pulled Kurt in deeper than he ever had, and Kurt came with a shout down Dave’s throat._ _ _

___Dave worked it until he burned for breath, and Kurt was pushing at him, too sensitive, before pulling back. Dave surged up, catching Kurt’s mouth in a kiss. That was hot, so hot, the sounds Kurt had made, the way he had moved as he came faster than Dave had ever seen him, the way he was biting at Dave’s lips—it was heady and he was close, so close, and there was a Kurt’s hand on his cock, and it stroked him with perfect pressure until he came with a deep cry that left him spent._ _ _

___Dave sank back and rested his forehead on Kurt’s knee. “Okay,” Dave said, breathless. “We can watch the movie, now.”_ _ _

___Kurt chuckled, but pulled up his pants and dug out the DVD. While Kurt put it in the DVD player, Dave went into the kitchen, quickly washing his hands and popping a bag of popcorn into the microwave. He grabbed soda for him and Kurt, regular and diet respectively, and contemplated getting one of the cookie jars while the popcorn cooked._ _ _

___Kurt joined him and pressed up against his back, watching the popcorn spin for a long moment, and Dave felt something settle inside of him. He felt warm, content. Kurt pulled away before the timer dinged, and Dave smirked when he heard the faucet run. He ran a hand over his mouth—it was warm and almost swollen, and Kurt’s breath hitched. Dave looked over to see Kurt staring at Dave’s fingers where they were pressed against his lips. Dave grinned and Kurt shook himself from his revere, half-heartedly flicking soap at Dave._ _ _

___“No more distractions,” Kurt teased, grabbing the popcorn bowl as soon as Dave filled it. “You’re watching this.”_ _ _

___“Fine,” Dave said, and followed Kurt back to the couch. He sat, Kurt pressed play, and sat next to Dave. Dave rolled his eyes and pulled Kurt in close under his arm. Kurt giggled, but curled in, adjusting so he could still reach the popcorn._ _ _

___The opening number started, and Dave felt his foot bouncing along. When “Skid Row” started, Kurt sang along. When Steve Martin appeared, Dave snorted, pointing at the screen, and said, “Is that Ms. P’s ex?” Kurt snickered._ _ _

___“Hey,” Dave said, “is that Bill Murray?”_ _ _

___“Yep,” Kurt said. “It was played by Jack Nicholson in the original.”_ _ _

___“No shit,” Dave said._ _ _

___Kurt poked Dave’s side. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you.”_ _ _

___“Maybe,” Dave said._ _ _

___“Heh, _that’s_ a yes.”_ _ _

___But Dave knew he was sunk when Audrey II sang for the first time. Dave leaned his head back along the couch, wondering if he had enough money in his iTunes account to buy the soundtrack. “I’m going to have that song stuck in my head, aren’t I?”_ _ _

___“Yep!” Kurt grinned at him. Dave narrowed his eyes, and Kurt had a brief moment of warning before Dave pounced, knocked him back into the cushions, popcorn flying everywhere, and dug his fingers into Kurt’s side._ _ _

___“No! Ah!” Kurt protested, but he was laughing too hard to make a coherent sentence. He managed to get a hand free and grab Dave’s side, making Dave twitch enough to stop and stare. Kurt was flushed, panting, his mouth heavy and inviting. Dave leaned down, kissed Kurt, feeling Kurt wrap his arms around Dave’s neck, trying to bring him closer. Dave opened his hands, now cupping Kurt’s sides._ _ _

___Paul cleared his throat and Dave jerked back. He smoothed his shirt down while Kurt tried to fix his hair. Paul didn’t say anything, just “mm-hmmed” and walked into the kitchen._ _ _

___“I should go,” Kurt said, quietly._ _ _

___“Okay,” Dave said. “I’ll walk you out.”_ _ _

___And how long they stayed on the porch, away from Paul’s watchful eye, well. That was their business._ _ _

___***_ _ _

___Funnily enough, neither Dave nor Kurt had to bring up the dance at the next GSA meeting. This time it was all Berry._ _ _

___The meeting hadn’t quite started yet, and everyone was just finding their seats. Dave was talking to Az, looking around and hoping to see either Suz or Andy. Kurt was talking to Finn in low tones while Puck hovered._ _ _

___Puck had been doing a lot of that lately, ever since the party at Sebastian’s. The two of them had settled a bit, and it was clear to Dave, at least, that they had come to some sort of agreement. They were dating, even if they didn’t call it that._ _ _

___Dave looked around the room once more and saw Berry staring at Finn with a determined look. Dave shook his head. That was not going to end well._ _ _

___As Dave watched, Berry stood on a chair and clapped her hands. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please? Thank you.”_ _ _

___“What does she think she’s doing?” As muttered. Dave shrugged._ _ _

___“As you all know,” Berry began. “Next weekend is the annual Valentines Day Dance, here at McKinley High. I propose, in light of the hetero-normative underpinnings of the holiday, that the GSA arrive en masse to remind the administration that love is not defined by a binary, and that not everyone can freely dance with their one and only.” Berry looked right at Finn, who was, luckily, not paying her any attention. Puck was, however, and crossed his arms. Berry missed it completely, and Dave briefly bemoaned his principles, that wouldn’t let him take advantage of their plight by selling the story to _Lifetime_._ _ _

___“I think that’s a good idea,” Dave cut in, seeing the look on Santana’s face. “For those of us who want to show support, or maybe don’t have a specific someone, or who might not be ready to make a statement, the group is a great way to still enjoy the dance.” He looked over at Santana. “Of course, if you _want_ to make a statement, I think I can safely say that you have our support.”_ _ _

___Berry blinked at Dave, as if she hadn’t expected him to speak up. Dave raised an eyebrow at her. He lead the club _with_ Kurt, after all. _ _ _

___“Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”_ _ _

___“Great,” Kurt said. “Then you can be in charge of organizing everything.” Rachel beamed at him, as if she didn’t realize that Kurt was giving her busy work. Kurt caught Dave’s eye and winked._ _ _

___Well. That was one less thing to worry about._ _ _

___***_ _ _

___Rehearsal the next day was more construction. The set was going to be on wheels, with different sections moved for different pieces. Dave was once again with Suz and Andy in woodshop, building the frames that would hold the cloth backdrop of Skid Row. It wasn’t difficult work, just repetitive, so it was easy to talk._ _ _

___At one point, Suz asked if he was going to the dance with anybody._ _ _

___“Yeah,” Dave said. “The GSA is going as a group.” _Because I can’t just take my boyfriend to a stupid dance.__ _ _

___“Oh,” Suz said. She sounded disappointed. “So… you’re not taking your girlfriend, then?” she asked more hopefully._ _ _

___“No,” Dave said. “No girlfriend.” He paused, realizing suddenly what Suz was asking. _Why_ Suz was asking. He swallowed. Well, of course they didn’t know, and Dave sighed because he was going to be explaining this for the rest of his life. He could just leave it like that, but he liked Suz, and didn’t want to lead her on. And if she was friends with Andy, she probably wouldn’t sell the story to Jewfro. “I… no. Not, um. Not ever.” Dave winced. How awkward could he possibly be?_ _ _

___There was silence for a moment, then Andy snorted. “You owe me ten bucks.”_ _ _

___“What?” Dave looked up. Suz looked sulky, but gamely fished out ten bucks for Andy. “You bet on me?”_ _ _

___“We’ll bet on anything,” Andy said. “Honestly, I’m surprised Suz took the bet. The tension between you and Hummel was obvious. And distinctive.”_ _ _

___Dave knew he was gaping. “You… wait.”_ _ _

___Suz patted his arm. “It’s okay, honey. If it’s any consolation, I had no read on you until you started talking to him.”_ _ _

___Dave frowned. “I don’t actually know if that helps.”_ _ _

___“We won’t say anything, either,” Andy said._ _ _

___“That helps,” Dave said, and Suz laughed, but not unkindly. “Thanks.”_ _ _

___Andy shrugged. “We know what it’s like.”_ _ _

___Dave nodded, and finally said what had been on his mind. “I’m kinda surprised that you two aren’t in the GSA.”_ _ _

___“It’s not for lack of trying,” Suz said. “I’d do anything to support my boy, here, but my mom needs as much help as she can get with my sister, so I have to babysit. I’m lucky she lets me do drama.”_ _ _

___“I have work,” Andy said. “Got to pad that bank account if I’m going to get out of this podunk town.”_ _ _

___“A-men,” Suz said. Dave nodded along and braced the board for Suz to cut. He was a little stunned. He knew that not every gay kid in school would be in the GSA, but he hadn’t actually expected to find any._ _ _

___Dave and Andy carried the frames back, with Suz hovering around them and opening doors as needed. Once everything was on stage, Chris told them to take a break, then give a hand to the crew building Audrey II. Dave followed Andy and Suz back over to their backpacks, and he grabbed a water bottle, sitting on the edge of the stage to watch the singers by the piano._ _ _

___After seeing the movie with Kurt, Dave didn’t think he’d ever forget anything from that night. It was… memorable._ _ _

___The way Sam was singing “Suppertime,” however, wasn’t so memorable._ _ _

___Suz and Andy sat next to him. “That’s who they cast for Audrey II?” Suz said, biting into a twizzler and pulling it with a snap. “Really?”_ _ _

___“He’s the villain,” Andy said. “He’s got to learn to project.”_ _ _

___“He normally does,” Dave said. “He doesn’t really sound like himself.” In fact, he sounded kinda sickly. “I wonder if he’s okay.”_ _ _

___As Dave spoke, Sam turned several shades of green, turned heel, and ran from the auditorium. Dave winces as Sam hit the doors because, from the sound of things, he didn’t quite make it to the bathroom._ _ _

___“Oh, ew,” Suz said._ _ _

___“Everybody take five!” Schuester said and ran out after Sam. Dave watched the others at the piano as they looked at each other. After a moment, and a long hard stare at Berry, Kurt sighed and walked over to Dave._ _ _

___“Hey,” he said, stopping just at Dave’s knee, on the other side from Suz and Andy._ _ _

___“Hey,” Dave said. He pressed his knee against Kurt’s arm, feeling Kurt’s tension. “What’s going on?”_ _ _

___Kurt sighed. “Sam’s little brother is sick. Looks like Sam is now, too.”_ _ _

___“Sucks,” Dave said._ _ _

___Kurt nodded. He started to speak, but before he could say anything, Chris yelled across the room that their break was over. Dave gave Kurt a supportive smile, brushing his fingers against Kurt’s shoulder as he stood, and made his way back to the woodshop to get to work on the “flower pot” for Audrey II._ _ _

___***_ _ _

___“Well you want the good news or the bad news?” Kurt appeared next to Dave’s locker. Dave smiled at him. He had hockey practice after school today, and it was nice to see Kurt beforehand. “The good news,” Kurt said, “is that Sam will be fine. The bad news is that he’s going to be out of school for at least a month.”_ _ _

___“That sucks,” Dave said. “Who’s going to voice Audrey II?”_ _ _

___Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know. I think they’re going to re-open auditions. Last I heard, Artie was still talking it over with Schue.”_ _ _

___“I wish you luck,” Dave said._ _ _

___“Thanks,” Kurt said. Dave shut his locker and leaned against the door to speak with Kurt._ _ _

___“I wish I could kiss you,” Dave whispered. Kurt’s eyes widened. He grinned._ _ _

___“Soon,” he said. “How long until the season ends?”_ _ _

___“Too long,” Dave said. He pushed himself off the locker. “Call you later?”_ _ _

___Kurt nodded and brushed his fingers against Dave’s hand as he walked by. The end of the season couldn’t come too soon._ _ _

___Practice went quickly. Cooper watched him more intently that Dave was really comfortable with, but all he did was watch, so Dave was willing to ignore it. After the game, he dallied at his locker so that he was the last into the showers. He found himself humming as he washed, realizing only when the backup singers didn’t join in that he was singing “Suppertime.” He laughed to himself as he turned off the water. He had known it’d get stuck in his head._ _ _

___***_ _ _

___After practice, Dave turned south instead of north and headed to his grandparent’s house. He hadn’t seen them since New Year’s, and he should make it there with plenty of time to talk to Gram alone before Papa got home from his book club at the library. Gram opened the door and stood in the doorway while Dave parked his truck. She opened his arms when he walked up to the door, and Dave let himself be hugged, feeling some of the background frustration of the last few weeks settle and ease._ _ _

___“It’s so good to see you,” Gram said. “I just put a kettle on.” She ushered Dave inside and he took a deep breath._ _ _

___“And made gingerbread.”_ _ _

___“It’s January,” Gram said from the kitchen. “Of course I made gingerbread.” Dave sat at the kitchen table with Gram puttered, setting out another mug and getting out another tea bag. “So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”_ _ _

___Dave smiled at the table. “I can’t just be here to visit my wonderful grandmother?” he asked._ _ _

___“Of course you could,” Gram said. “But you’re not. You only visit when Papa’s out when you want to talk.”_ _ _

___“I don’t know where to start,” Dave said. There was so much he wanted to tell her; his fears about college, the way Cooper was a dick in practice, that he was working on the musical. Kurt._ _ _

___Gram was watching him. “Yes, you do,” Gram said. “Let your mouth speak. It’ll come out.”_ _ _

___“I have a boyfriend,” Dave blurted._ _ _

___“Oh!” Gram said. She looked startled, then she grinned widely. “Oh, that’s wonderful! What’s he like? You look happy.”_ _ _

___“I am happy,” Dave said. “He makes me so happy.” Dave closed his eyes for a moment, feeling tears rising. “It’s Kurt. Kurt Hummel?” He opened his eyes. Gram was watching him with such a soft expression. “What?”_ _ _

___“I’m not surprised,” she said. “The way you talk about him, you’d think he hung the moon.”_ _ _

___“Some days I think he did,” Dave said. The kettle began to whistle and Gram stood._ _ _

___“Well?” she said. “Give an old gossip some details.”_ _ _

___Dave laughed. “We’d been dancing around each other since Thanksgiving probably. Maybe before. But by Christmas... I’m surprised we lasted until New Year’s. We were at a friend’s party and kissed at midnight.” Dave stopped. Nobody but he and Kurt needed to know about the rest of that night. Especially not Gram._ _ _

___“That’s so romantic,” Gram said, placing a mug in front of him to steep. She fetched the gingerbread and sat back down at the table. “You danced with him?”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Dave said. “He’s a good dancer.”_ _ _

___“Good,” Gram said. “That’s a good sign.” She winked at him, and Dave flushed scarlet._ _ _

____“Gram!”_ Dave said, and Gram laughed. _ _ _

___“I’m a lot older than you, Dave. And I’m married to your Papa. I’m pretty hard to shock.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, well,” Dave said. “Still.”_ _ _

___Gram sipped her tea and cocked her head. “So what’s wrong?”_ _ _

___Dave sighed. “The hockey team,” he said. “Going into that locker room... they’ve made it very clear what they think of gays. I’m so happy with Kurt, so _proud_ to be with him. I want to be out,” Dave paused. “I think I’m ready to be out, but I’m too scared to be out at school while I have to go into that locker room. I’m scared of what they’ll _do_. You hear about gay kids getting beat up and I can’t be sure they won’t try. And if they don’t go after me, they will go after Kurt, and if Kurt gets hurt because of me _again_ , I don’t know...” Dave sipped his tea. _ _ _

___Gram sighed. “That is a problem,” she said._ _ _

___“And I got press-ganged into the musical,” he said, the words coming easier now. “I’m working crew, behind the scenes, but I’m pretty sure the director is just waiting to pounce on me. He was trying like hell to get me to sing. Apparently I’m perfect to play the villain.” Dave took a bite of his gingerbread. “I wouldn’t mind being on stage, I don’t think,” he admitted. “I loved dancing in that half-time show. I really did. I’d probably like being on stage. But something about this scares me, and I’m not sure what it is.”_ _ _

___“Well,” Gram said, leaning forward on her elbows, her mug cradled in both hands. “Let’s try to figure it out. What _doesn’t_ scare you about it?” _ _ _

___Dave shrugged. “I have no idea. I know it’ll make Kurt happy,” he said. “Kurt likes when I sing.”_ _ _

___“Because Kurt sings,” Gram said. “And it’s something you share.”_ _ _

___“Exactly,” Dave said. “So... I guess I’m a little scared of upstaging him? I mean, I don’t think I will, really, he’s so amazing I don’t think I can, but everybody reacts so strongly when I sing... I don’t want to be competing with him.”_ _ _

___Gram nodded slowly. “To be fair, I’ve heard Kurt sing. I don’t think you two will ever fight for parts.”_ _ _

___“True,” Dave said. “And he’s hasn’t been pushing, but I know he’d like it if I sang with him. So that’s not it. I’m a little afraid of what people’ll say. The guys in glee get called ‘gay’ all the time.” It’s different when it’s not true. You can fight against the slur by denying it. But when you are gay, you have to fight against more than that. _You’re wrong to not like this thing that I am, _is a lot harder to fight than _I am not this thing you don’t like.____ _ _

_____“Hmm,” Gram said. “Is that the only thing people would say?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I don’t want to play the villain,” Dave said. It just popped out, and now that it was there, hanging between them, Dave realized how true it was. “I don’t want to play the bad guy, because I’m afraid I’ll be seen as the bad guy again.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Gram watched him for a moment. “What’s the play?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Dave dunked a piece of gingerbread into his tea. “ _Little Shop of Horrors._ ” _ _ _ _ _

_____“And they want to you play, who, Audrey II?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Dave blinked at her. “You know the play?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“David,” Gram sighed. “You’d be playing an evil plant, not a bully.” Dave winced. “The fact that it’s a musical, that it’s _you_ in the musical, should be enough to show people that you’re a different person. _IF_ you end up singing in the first place. And if you _do_ get a chance to sing, belt it out.” _ _ _ _ _

_____“Really?” Dave said._ _ _ _ _

_____Gram nodded. “Really. As for those hockey boys, why don’t you tell your coach your concerns? She might be able to do something.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Maybe,” Dave said, though he doubted it._ _ _ _ _

_____“Now,” Gram patted his hand. “On to more important things. Do you have any pictures of your new beau?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Dave laughed, but pulled out his phone to pull up a picture of Kurt._ _ _ _ _

_____They were still sitting there, Dave telling Gram about how Az showed up at the GSA meeting, when Papa came home, and long after._ _ _ _ _

_____***_ _ _ _ _

_____“Dave!” Artie called as Dave walked into the auditorium the next day. “Can we borrow you for a second?” Dave shrugged and joined Artie, Kurt, Schue, Brad the Piano Player, and Coach Sylvester at the piano._ _ _ _ _

_____“What’s up?” Dave asked._ _ _ _ _

_____“Here,” Artie thrust a pile of papers at Dave. Dave took them and saw that it was the sheet music for “Feed Me (Git it).” _The fuck?_ He couldn’t read sheet music. “We need someone to fill in for Audrey II while we look for someone more permanent. You’ve been volunteered.” _ _ _ _ _

_____“Artie,” Dave said, “I’ve got to help with the sets.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I cleared it with Chris,” Artie waved his hand, and Dave turned to Kurt, looking for support. Kurt, however, just shrugged. Dave’s eyes narrowed._ _ _ _ _

_____“Quit lollygagging, Cubby, and sing your song of love,” Sylvester snapped. Schuester protested on Dave’s behalf, but Dave just rolled his eyes and adjusted his grip on the papers. He couldn't read the music, but he could use the reference for the lyrics._ _ _ _ _

_____“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” Dave muttered to Kurt._ _ _ _ _

_____“You like the music?” Kurt said. Dave nodded. “Then sing the music. You’re not performing for anybody, you’re just singing, like you did at the holiday party.” Dave nodded, took his Gram’s advice to heart, and let loose a little bit of him that had been screaming since that “Thriller” at half-time._ _ _ _ _

_____“Okay,” Dave said. Brad started to play, and Dave started to sing:_ _ _ _ _

_Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!_  
Feed me, Seymour  
Feed me all night long  
That's right, boy  
You can do it  
Feed me, Seymour  
Feed me all night long  
'Cause if you feed me, Seymour  
I can grow up big and strong 

Dave refused to look up from the lyrics. He didn’t need to see the surprise on Schuester's face, or the triumph on Artie’s to know it was here. Sylvester always looked smug or pissed, and he had a feeling she wasn’t pissed at the moment. 

He did glance up at Kurt for the next bit, confidence growing at Kurt’s beaming smile, and he sang the next lyrics _to_ him, hamming it up a little and leaning into Kurt’s space. 

_Would you like a Cadillac car?_  
Or a guest shot on Jack Paar?  
How about a date with Hedy Lamarr?  
You gonna git it. 

Dave winked at Kurt, and Kurt bit his tongue. Dave wasn’t stupid. He knew that he’d been set up; Artie wouldn’t have gone so far as to make Sam sick, but he would totally use that sickness to “trick” Dave into the cast. And he wasn’t above convincing Kurt to work with him to get Dave on board, which meant _Kurt_ had known. 

Dave wasn’t mad at Kurt, not after talking things out with Gram, and besides, he couldn’t be mad when he was letting himself perform—but he felt pumped, jazzed, and that energy had to go somewhere, and it focused on Kurt. 

Oh yeah. Kurt was _gonna git it._ He let a little bit of his plans show in his grin, and saw Kurt’s eyes darken, his ears flush. 

_Would you like to be a big wheel,_  
Dinin' out for every meal?  
I'm the plant that can make it all real  
You gonna git it 

_I'm your genie, I'm your friend_  
I'm your willing slave  
Take a chance, just feed me and  
You know the kinda eats,  
The kinda red hot treats  
The kinda sticky licky sweets  
I crave 

_Kurt was bright red by now, and Dave was grinning. He’d always gotten a bit of a sexy vibe from this song, but singing it to Kurt, _pleading_ with Kurt, it took on a whole different vibe. _Come on, Kurt, just give in._ _

_Come on, Seymour, don't be a putz_  
Trust me and your life will surely rival King Tut's  
Show a little 'nitiative, work up the guts  
And you'll git it 

_I dare you,_ Dave thought, and he _saw_ the very moment Kurt accepted the challenge, the fire never fading from his eyes, as he countered back: 

_I don't know. I don't know_  
I have so, so many strong reservations  
Should I go and perform mutilations? 

Dave grinned. The song was kind of ridiculous, in the way the whole show was kind of ridiculous, but this was first time he’d sang with Kurt like this, and it was really kind of awesome. He leaned in a little, amping up the coaxing in his voice just a bit. 

_Think about a room at the Ritz_  
Wrapped in velvet, covered in glitz  
A little nookie gonna clean up your zits  
And you'll git it 

Kurt leaned toward Dave, smirk playing about his lips as he sang back, giving in to the temptation of the song. 

_Gee I'd like a Harley machine,_  
Toolin' around like I was James Dean,  
Makin' all the guys on the corner turn green 

Dave grinned. He’d never imagined that they could play like this. 

_So go git it_  
If you wanna be profound  
And you really gotta justify  
Take a breath and look around  
A lot of folks deserve to die 

Kurt joined him now, their voiced hitting their first harmony, and it sounded better than Dave knew it could. He could see the surprise on Kurt’s face, too, followed quickly by a brightness in Kurt’s eyes that Dave recognized. His dad had better be gone for a while after rehearsal tonight, that’s all Dave could think. 

_If you want a rationale_  
It isn't very hard to see  
Stop and think it over, pal  
The guy sure looks like plant food to me. 

They alternated for the next two lines, Kurt belting his out: 

_He's so nasty, treatin' her rough,_

And Dave throwing it right back to him: 

_Smackin' her around and always talkin' so tough._

Dave wanted to laugh when they started singing together. He felt like he was flying in a way he’d never felt before, hitting every beat. 

_You (I) need blood and he's got more than enough_

Dave finished them off with a bang, 

_So go git it!_

And Dave and Kurt started laughing. Kurt launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Dave. “That was awesome!” Kurt said directly into his ear. 

“Thanks,” Dave said. He let Kurt down and looked over to the others. Sylvester looked smug, and Dave could see her with a cigar between her teeth, crowing about how she loved it when a plan came together. Artie looked like he was about cream himself, he was so freaking happy, and Schue looked like he’d been hit in the head with a frying pan. It wasn’t a good look for him, for all that he wore it so often. 

“David, that was...” Schue trailed off. 

“Exactly what I expected you were capable of,” Sylvester said. “I’m proud of you for not letting me down,” she said. “As for you, Will, I’m not surprised. You always expect the wrong people to have talent.” 

Schue looked like he was ready to fight back, so Dave stepped in. “So, did I pass my audition?” 

Schue turned back to him, sharing a guilty look with Artie. Sylvester smiled, slowly. Like a shark. “Impressive, Cubby,” She said. 

Dave shrugged. “With the way Artie had been hounding me, and you were, don’t lie,” Dave said to Artie, who raised his hands with a, “Be cool, be cool.” “I kinda figured you’d take advantage of Sam being missing.” 

“I’d feel bad,” Artie said. “But you’re perfect, so I don’t. Will you do it?” 

Dave looked over at Kurt quickly, and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I’m in.”


	4. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many thanks to raving_liberal, who calmed me when I was freaking out like a crazy person over the sexins. 
> 
> Sorry this is so late. There were technical issues and scheduling conflicts. It's also a little shorter than my usual, but next chapter looks to be a big'un, so it'll even out. 
> 
> PSA: there will be no new chapter next week due to the Thanksgiving Holiday. Regularly scheduled chapters will resume the week after.

Monday was the beginning of Dave’s Valentine’s Day Blitz Campaign.

Yes, Dave knew that was an odd way to think about it, but whatever.

Each day, Dave planned on giving Kurt a different present from a “secret admirer.” Dave didn’t expect to fool Kurt, but hoped he’d play along anyway.

Dave’s alarm went off half an hour early, and he groaned as he rolled over, but he dragged himself from bed anyway. He had a plan. He could afford to lose a little sleep.

That early, the school was nearly empty. Dave walked in with a few students who took advantage of the early morning breakfast in the cafeteria, and the teachers who clutched their coffee cups as if they would protect them from the day ahead. Even Schue looked a little wild-eyed in the morning, his curls a little flatter than usual, and Dave gave him a wide birth.

Luckily, the hall by Kurt’s locker was empty, so Dave could quickly open it, place the card and the single rose inside, and close the locker without anybody noticing.

Dave had thought about taping the items to Kurt’s door, to help with the secret admirer fiction, but he didn’t want anybody noticing that the gay kid was getting gifts and taking it upon themselves to fuck with it.

He went to his own locker, stashing his book bag and grabbing his things for first period, and checked his watch. Kurt usually arrived in a few minutes, so Dave went back to that hallway to watch.

There were already more people there than before, but Dave saw Finn’s head over the crowd, which meant that Kurt was probably there too, using Finn as a way to get through the crowd. Sure enough, there he was, and Dave allowed himself a moment to just look as Kurt opened his locker and froze. Slowly, he pulled out the rose, spinning it in his fingers as a soft smile crept over his face. He brought the flower to his nose and breathed deeply, his eyelids fluttering. He snatched the card from his locker, tearing at the envelope in his haste, and Dave started to walk towards him.

Mercedes beat him there. “And what do you have there?” Dave heard her ask.

“A rose,” Kurt said.

“From…?” Mercedes teased.

“My secret admirer,” Kurt said.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” she said. Kurt nodded and showed her the card. Dave knew what it said. The cover was a picture of a cartoon bear trying to harvest honey from a beehive. Inside was a cartoon bee holding a paper heart that said “Bee my Honey?” It was signed, “Your Secret Admirer.”

“Well look at that,” Mercedes said. She looked up at Dave as he walked up. “Would you believe that my boy here has a secret admirer?”

“Oh really?” Dave said, smiling at Kurt. Kurt was trying to narrow his eyes at Dave, but he was smiling too hard for it to really be an effective look. “A rose, huh?”

“Indeed,” Kurt said. “Red is for passion, and the rose is for love.” Kurt cocked his head. “So whomever it is must be someone with strong emotions. But the card is light, sweet, and cute. So that denotes a softer side.” Kurt tapped the card against his lip as he looked sidelong at Dave. “It looks like my admirer is a passionate, secret romantic.”

“I dunno,” Dave teased. “It could be a girl who never got the memo.”

Kurt giggled. Mercedes rolled her eyes at them. “You two,” she muttered. “I gotta get to my locker. Peace, boo,” she said. Kurt waved goodbye as she disappeared down the hall.

“Now,” Kurt said. “Since I refuse to believe your ridiculous hypothesis. I wonder who this could possibly be from?”

Dave shrugged. “Maybe he’ll let you know? Valentine’s Day is a week away. Who knows what could happen between now and then?”

“Good point,” Kurt said. He looked at the rose. “This really is too pretty to leave in my locker and too delicate to carry.” With a deft twist of his fingers, he snapped the stem a few inches from the base of the flower. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a safety pin, and attached his new boutonnière to his vest pocket. “There,” Kurt said. “Now I can keep it with me all day.”

“Nice,” Dave said. “Come on, I’ll walk you to homeroom.”

***

Not much really changed at rehearsal. Audrey II was a giant plant puppet, which meant Dave would be singing into a microphone backstage. Schue or Artie would occasionally demand his presence at the piano to sing with the others, but this week was blocking, so Dave was back with the crew more often than not.

Suz had laughed at him for letting himself get suckered in. “Though,” she had said, “if I had Kurt Hummel looking at me like that, I’d jump ship, too.”

“Amen,” Andy had said.

Dave had rolled his eyes, but he was happy that his new friends weren’t resentful.

Today, they were starting work on Audrey II, which meant drafting in the art room—yet another room that Dave had never expected to ever use. Suz and Andy were bickering over pencils by the sharpener, and Dave was staring at the large sheet of graph paper, trying to figure out dimensions. His fingers itched for a pencil, but Suz had annexed his into the Great Sharpness Debate, so Dave was left twiddling when Finn walked into the art room.

“Dave,” Finn said with a relieved smile. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.” Finn paused. “Well, except for the girl’s bathroom. But that was next if you weren’t here.”

Dave frowned. “Why would I be in the girl’s bathroom?”

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. All the boys in glee seem to be pulled in there at least once. It might have been your turn.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “I’m not in glee, Finn.”

“Good as,” Finn said. He walked over to the giant purple-green… thing in the corner. Dave wasn’t sure what it was, but being that it was in the art room, Dave guessed it must be “modern art.” It didn’t look much like art to Dave, in fact it looked like a giant schlong, but what did Dave know? He was just a hockey player. From the disturbed look on Finn’s face, he didn’t see “modern art” either.

“So what’s up?” Dave asked.

“Not much,” Finn said. “Puck’s been grumpy lately, and I’m pretty sure Rachel keeps trying to get me to hit on her.” He shifted. “I don’t want to hit on her.”

“Then it’s good you recognize what she’s doing,” Dave said. “So you don’t do it by accident.”

Finn grinned and nodded at Dave. “That’s what I said to Puck! But he’s still all frowny.”

Behind Finn, Andy and Suz stopped their argument, and were looking between Dave and Finn, as if they weren’t quite sure what was going on. To be fair, neither did Dave.

“Well,” Dave said. “I’d be frowny, too, if Berry started her act with Kurt.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, then he shook himself. “But, I mean, um… you and Kurt are—” Finn cut himself off, looking over his shoulder at Suz and Andy with wide eyes, like he had just remembered they were there. Dave sighed.

“They know, Finn, it’s okay.”

“Oh, good,” Finn said.

Dave counted to five. “I meant, why are you here, Finn? Do they need me at the piano?”

“Nah,” Finn said. “Artie said that I’m playing Audrey II with you.” He grinned, proud. “I’m the puppeteer!”

Dave blinked. Of all the skills Dave would have said Finn was hiding, puppeteering wasn’t one of them. After all, Finn was still scared of the Skeksis in _The Dark Crystal_ because they were giant puppets.

Maybe it was some kind of exposure therapy.

“Really?” Andy blurted, then covered his mouth. Seemed like Dave wasn’t the only one surprised.

“Yeah,” Finn said, thankfully missing the subtext. “Apparently, I’m the only one big enough.”

“Ah,” Dave said. Suz approached with a _look_ in her eye. Dave was _very_ glad he had never introduced her to Santana. That was a Santana look.

“Have you ever puppeteered before?” Suz asked.

“I once played _Punch ‘n’ Judy_ with Puck in third grade,” Finn said. He paused. “Punch broke Judy.”

“Okay,” Andy said. “You’ve never worked with a puppet like this before and we’ve never built one. It’ll be a learning experience for us all.” He put the collection of pencils on the desk. They were notably sharper, and Dave wondered which one of them won. He grabbed his own pencil and twisted the top sheet to get to the top left corner.

“How tall are you, Finn?”

“Six foot three.”

Dave wrote it down, speaking aloud as he calculated, “Okay, if Finn’s six-three, then the total height of the puppet has to be at least, say, seven feet. That gives nine inches of space above Finn’s head for the top of Audrey’s. The plant stand we made was two feet high, so that means the back of Audrey’s mouth has to be five feet tall.” Dave sketched underneath a very rough picture of Audrey II, mouth down like she had when she talked, and marked out the height of each section. “Do we want it to swivel up to look like a tulip, or down and covered like a shamed dog?” He looked up to see Suz and Andy look at him in surprise. Finn was looking at his hand, fingers pinched together to resemble Audrey II, and was moving it up and down, considering.

“Down,” Suz said at last. “It’s easier for us to build and easier for Finn to control, I think.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “So we won’t need something to tilt it back. The lips will have to be at least five feet long, or it won’t look right. I say we make them seven,” Dave sketched a profile shot, showing them what he meant.

Andy cocked his head. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Suz said. “What are we going to make it out of?”

Dave shrugged. “Plaster of Paris? Papier-mâché?”

Andy shook his head. “Too heavy and not sturdy enough. This thing has to eat people. It needs to be strong enough to take the weight.

“Okay,” Dave said. “We can make the frame out of pipe in the metal shop. Andy, didn’t you say you had Mr. Tyler last year? He should let us do it.”

“Then we can use wood to fill in the holes in the frame of the bottom jaw,” Suz said, catching onto Dave’s idea. “That way whoever’s eaten can climb through without _falling_ through.”

Dave nodded. “As for the outside we can use, what? They used foam core in the movie.”

“That much might be too expensive,” Andy said.

“Can it be stuffed?” Finn asked. They all looked at him. He looked back, turning his Audrey hand to look as well. “I mean, we can make a cover out of fabric, then stuff it like a seat cushion. It should be durable enough, and comfortable.”

“Oh, I like that idea!” Suz said, bouncing. She fell back on her heels. “Of course, I don’t know how to sew, so…”

“Me either,” Andy said.

“Kurt won’t let me near a needle and thread,” Finn said.

Dave sighed. “I’ll do it,” he said. “And, worse comes to worse, I’ll ask Kurt for help.”

Dave had no intention of asking Kurt for help. Dave knew he could handle the project, just as he knew he didn’t want to deal with the comments, even though they were friendly intended, about the fact that he could sew well enough to make an Audrey II. But the others seemed to buy it, so Dave put pencil to graph paper, and started sketching large enough to get the dimensions for the internal frame.

***

After rehearsal, Dave and Kurt went back to his place to “study.”

Dave would happily admit that they didn’t plan on actually studying.

Of course, he’d less happily tell you that, so far, anyway, there had been no sex, either. Instead, Dave lay on his bed watching Kurt dig through his closet for his suits. Dave would have been upset—he’d happily give up everything to kiss Kurt and never stop—but he couldn’t find it in him to feel disappointed because Kurt looked so _damned_ happy to be playing dress up with Dave’s wardrobe.

Besides, Dave only had three suits. How long could it take?

The answer, apparently, was _a while_.

Kurt had immediately dismissed the linen suit, but was currently stuck between the black and the charcoal. Finally, Kurt put the black suit back into the closet and hung the charcoal suit on the door to his closet. 

“Alright,” he said. “This suit, with...” Kurt dug into Dave’s suits to look at his shirts, and Dave rolled off of his bed to gently pull Kurt away from his closet. “What—? But, Dave…”

“We have a week,” Dave said. “You don’t need to plan it all out tonight.”

Kurt pouted. “You just want to make out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no,” Dave flashed a grin. “But mostly, I want you to pay attention to me and not my closet. I’m needy that way.”

Kurt hummed and wrapped his arms around Dave’s neck, pulling Dave down into a gentle kiss. “Well,” Kurt whispered against his lips. “I guess I could spare you _some_ attention.”

Dave felt a little guilty for pulling Kurt away, he knew how much Kurt enjoyed playing in other people’s wardrobes, but later, when he came harder than he ever had yet with Kurt’s mouth on his cock and three fingers in his ass, well… the smug look Kurt wore for the rest of the evening just proved how much Kurt enjoyed playing with _him_ as well.

***

Tuesday, Dave gave Kurt a stuffed monkey holding a banana that said “Bananas 4 U.”

Kurt carried it with him everywhere, even to the GSA where Sylvester rolled her eyes and Schuester looked startled, like he hadn’t realized Kurt was would be getting gifts from someone with a romantic interest. Dave was glad Beiste and Pillsbury were the teachers for the GSA. Pillsbury cooed over the monkey with a few of the Cheerios, and Beiste gave him a discreet thumb up.

That night, both their parents were home, so they drove until they hit fields and parked, then climbed into the back to make out until Kurt got frustrated and opened their pants, jerking them together until they came. They lay in the back, watching the stars through Kurt’s moon-roof until they did it again. Dave came home with a hickey the size of a Post-it note just underneath his collar from where Kurt had bitten down when he came the second time, flushed and writhing.

Wednesday, Dave gave Kurt an assortment of his favorite chocolates from See’s Candies, with butterscotch and caramel and café au lait. Kurt lit up when he saw the box, hugging it to his chest to keep it from Mercedes, with a “Get your own admirer chocolate!”

When Kurt popped a café au lait chocolate into his mouth and moaned, Dave thought he was going to burst into flame.

When Kurt passed him a butterscotch chocolate because he knew it was Dave’s favorite, Dave thought he was going to melt.

Not even the team’s ribbing in the locker room when they saw his hickey could dampen Dave’s spirits. He just grinned goofily at them and said they were jealous because he was getting some and they weren’t. Meyers copped to it immediately, saying, “Well, can you blame me? You’re getting all that, and I’m getting nothing! I’m saying we need an equal distribution of wealth.”

“We’re not communists, Meyers.”

Meyers sighed. “And isn’t that a damned shame.”

Thursday, Dave filled Kurt’s lockers with balloons. This time, the card was a simple red heart, like they used to make in kindergarten. It just said, “You lift my spirits.”

Dave ended up singing for most of the rehearsal as they worked on blocking his scenes. It was fun, but Dave’s throat was dry and sore by the time they took a break. Kurt took him out to the Nav to get his supply of honey and herbal tea, then took Dave to the abandoned third floor boys restroom and sucked him off in the wheelchair stall for “having such a _fucking sexy_ singing voice, babe, oh my god.”

They both returned to rehearsal a little flushed, but nobody seemed to notice.

Friday was the day of the dance.

That morning, before school, Paul said goodbye to Dave as he left for a few days, his first business trip since their family had splintered. Dave was happy his father seemed to be moving on, but he was mostly focused on the fact that he’d have an empty house for the next few nights.

Including Valentine’s Day.

Dave gave Kurt heart-shaped cufflinks. They were real gold, but since they were just the outline of the heart they weren’t terribly expensive. Still, Kurt went very quiet when he saw them. The note in the box said “wear them and think of me,” and Dave knew Kurt was thinking back to the first time he saw Dave’s closet and had boggled that Dave owned cufflinks, had even owned shirts that _needed_ cufflinks.

“Jewelry,” Mercedes said. “He must be serious.”

“Very,” Dave said, and watched as Kurt blinked away tears.

“Boo, what’s wrong?” Mercedes asked. Dave felt his stomach drop. They went too far, he was such an idiot, he should never have—

“I want to wear them now,” Kurt said. “But my shirt has buttons.” He laughed weakly, and Dave let out a sigh of relief. Mercedes leaned back and narrowed her eyes.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, boy. Because I think you just gave your ‘secret admirer’ a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Kurt said, but didn’t look away from the links. He traced a finger around each heart, then snapped the box shut, breathing in sharply and coming back to himself. “I’m wearing them tonight,” Kurt said. Dave grinned.

Naturally, Dave had practice right after class. They were supposed to have a game, but there was a nasty flu going around the opponent’s school, so they won by forfeit. Instead, the coach had scheduled a skirmish at the rink, so Dave was—not running late, per se, but definitely felt rushed when he got to his house, kicking himself because Kurt never had actually finished picking out the rest of his—

And there was the Nav sitting out front of his house. Dave parked and smiled to himself. Of course.

He entered his house, climbing the stairs up to his room. He opened his bedroom door, and called up, “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, coach was being a dick…” Dave trailed off.

Dave’s charcoal suit was still on the back of his door, the green shirt in front of it with his cream colored tie. His shoes were by his bed and polished, and his boyfriend was sitting on his bed, wearing the cufflinks Dave had bought him, and holding Dave’s prom king crown in his hands.

“Kurt,” Dave said.

“I didn’t know you kept it,” Kurt said. “You’ve seen mine. Dad was just happy it was a crown and not my tiara collection. But… I didn’t see yours anywhere. I thought I had seen it when I first saw your closet, just a shine in the shadows in the back, but when I looked again I didn’t see it. But today, when I was digging for your shoes, I found it.”

“I couldn’t throw it away,” Dave said, coming in to sit next to Kurt. Gently, he took the crown from Kurt’s hands. “But I couldn’t look at it, either.” It had represented just how fucked up his life had become; all his misery and self-loathing had tied up in that golden plastic, and it made him want to smash it into tiny pieces. But, he was still _Kurt’s_ king, and that alone was enough to stay his hand. It was complicated, would always be complicated, but Dave had come to terms with that.

“Come on,” he said, setting the crown aside. “What’s past is past. You going to help me dress or what?”

It took Kurt a moment, but he smiled and sat down at Dave’s desk. “Oh, no.” Kurt said. “I’m in the mood for a little show.” He clapped twice. “Entertain me.”

Dave snorted and sketched a bow, then stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. His undershirt joined it, then he unbelted his jeans and let them fall. Kurt was still smirking, but there was a weight to his gaze now, and Dave kicked his clothes aside, running his thumbs along the top elastic of his boxers. He paused, hands in front of him, fingertips just braces around his hardening cock. “Well?”

Kurt groaned. “We don’t have time. We’re supposed to pick Puck and Finn up.”

Dave shrugged and turned around, thinking anything he could to will his erection away. He dressed like his grandfather had taught him. Clean undershirt. Pants. Collared shirt, buttoned then tucked. Suspenders (and Dave caught the way Kurt’s eyes lit up, make no mistake). Cufflinks. Dave picked up his tie, and Kurt stood, walking over to him and taking the tie from his hands, looping it around Dave’s neck while Dave stood as still as he could. Kurt lifted Dave’s collar, his fingers warm against Dave’s skin and setting off sparks. Kurt ran his hands down the ends of the tie, twisting them over each other, slipping the tail through the knot and slowly sliding it up into place just below the base of Dave’s neck. Dave’s breath caught, and he let it out slowly.

Kurt smoothed Dave’s collar and Dave caught his hands as Kurt pulled away, instead pulled him closer, pulled him in and kissed him like he couldn’t believe Kurt was real, like something had changed, some turning point had been reached and passed without notice and it started and ended with the feeling of Kurt’s lips on his.

“We’re going to be late,” Kurt whispered.

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

In the end they were almost forty-five minutes late, but when Puck and Finn tumbled out of Puck’s apartment they were only barely put together, wearing the same suits they wore to Sebastian’s, and Dave and Kurt shared a look. They weren’t the only ones enjoying some alone time.

“Lookin’ good, Cubby,” Puck said, and Finn looked at Puck in confusion. Dave rolled his eyes. That name was everywhere.

“That’s because I have style and class,” Dave said. “And Kurt.”

“Kurt, can you do my tie again?” Finn asked, looking down at the knotted wreck around his neck.

Kurt tisked. “What did you… never mind. Give it to Dave.” Finn took off his tie and Dave wrapped it around his own neck, tying it quickly and handing it to Puck, who put it on Finn.

“Thanks, man,” Finn said.

The dance was in the gym, and Dave could hear the bass as soon as they opened the front doors to the school. Glittery red posters pointed the way, and Kurt led the way through the halls to the table where they turned in their tickets to a bored looking sophomore.

The gym was… Pink. Very, very pink. And glittery. And loud.

Dave rubbed a hand at his ear, the other automatically going to Kurt’s back to guide him around some chairs and over to the table the GSA had staked out in the corner. Az was sitting, talking to Chang and Tina about something, all lit up like Christmas. Kurt was greeting Mercedes and Sam, so Dave leaned closer. Tina said something about “Cylons,” and Dave rolled his eyes. If the school only knew of Az’s obsession with _Battlestar Galactica_ … well, it was a good thing that Dave was a good friend. He turned back to Kurt to see Mercedes looking him over.

“Not only are you well dressed,” Mercedes said, “and _tailored_ , but that is a different suit from New Year’s.”

Dave shrugged. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Mercedes blinked. “You own more than one suit?”

“He has a linen suit, ‘Cedes. _Linen._ ,” Kurt said. Mercedes’s eyes widened in approval. Dave rolled his eyes.

“Blame Papa,” Dave grumbled. He fought the urge to stick his hands into his pockets, and looked around the room. Some of the jocks were on the floor with their girlfriends or their dates. Wallflowers hugged the shadows, out of the spinning lights of the disco ball that the school _always_ pulled out for dances in the gym. Santana and Brittany danced on the edge of the floor, Brittany moving with her usual grace and Santana smiling wider than Dave had ever seen. He felt a hand on his arm and looked to see Kurt looking over at them as well. The smile on Kurt’s face made Dave realize he was grinning himself.

“I’m proud of her,” Dave said, quietly. “I know getting out there wasn’t easy.”

Kurt squeezed Dave’s arm gently. “I’m proud of you, too,” Kurt whispered.

***

Dances weren’t much fun when you couldn’t dance with the person you really wanted to dance with. That didn’t mean Dave didn’t dance. Mercedes and Sam dragged him and Kurt out to join Santana and Brittany to dance as a group. Dave danced with Kurt bumping against his side, freak danced with a laughing Santana because it was _hysterical_ , and joined Finn, Puck, and Mike to jump on it like Tonto and the Fresh Prince.

The first slow song hit Dave like a weight in his chest, and he went for punch to avoid just reaching for Kurt and pulling him close and saying _fuck it_. He would have, but Jewfro was there with his camera, and most of the hockey team had showed up, so. Yeah. No slow dancing for Cubby.

Except.

Dave turned around, two cups of punch in hand, and found Kurt walking his way. Kurt took his punch, downed it in one go, and as he swallowed, Dave watched the way the sweat at his temples darkened his hair, the way his throat worked, and Kurt jerked his head for Dave to follow him.

Kurt glanced around the shadows, and they slipped through the door to the outside. Kurt led him around the side of the building to the outside entrance to the locker rooms and opened the door. Dave frowned. “Don’t they lock that at night?”

“They can’t yet,” Kurt said. “They need to keep so many emergency exits, just in case.”

“Huh,” Dave said, then Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled him into the locker room. It wasn’t completely dark in the room, as the streetlights from outside shone in the window, but it was still hard to see, and when Kurt pulled Dave close, it felt like they were getting away with something.

“Seems like so much happens here,” Kurt said into the shadows just in front of Dave’s ear. “What’s one more thing?” And then Kurt wrapped one of Dave’s hands around his waist, and grabbed his other arm and moved until Dave was forced to take a step, and stepped into the dance.

Slowly they danced, a simple, slow two-step shuffle, rocking back and forth, foot to foot, pressed close along their chests down through their thighs, and it amped like static electricity. Dave pulled Kurt closer, ran his hand down Kurt’s arm to wrap both of his hands around Kurt’s waist. Kurt clasped his hands behind Dave’s neck.

“One day,” Dave said into Kurt’s hair. “One day, we’re going to do this in public without worrying. I promise.”

“I know,” Kurt said.

Dave stopped his sway, pressing his forehead to Kurt’s. “I mean it,” Dave said. “I’d be out there now, with you—”

“I _know_ ,” Kurt stressed. “But don’t think of them, when you could think of me.”

“I think about you all the time,” Dave said, softly. Kurt smiled and pulled Dave down into a gentle kiss. It was so very different than the first kiss they had here, in what Dave realized was the same spot. The feeling from before returned with full force; tonight was a turning point.

“I love you,” Dave said and froze. He had known for a while, but he hadn’t planned on saying it now, here, in this place. He had plans; he was going to take Kurt out to a nice dinner, someplace where they could be open together, say it to him gently—

But Kurt was looking at Dave now, here, the words between them, with such a look of _wonder_ , like he couldn’t believe Dave loved him, like he couldn’t believe Dave had said something. No—like he couldn’t believe he was that lucky.

“I…” Dave trailed off.

Kurt grabbed Dave’s head, drew them together with a clash, whispering against his mouth, “I love you. I love you, too, you—God, you _constantly_ surprise me in all the _best_ ways.”

Dave grinned, then looked at the bench next to them, turning them until his knees hit the bench and he sat looking up at Kurt. “I want to spread you open,” Dave said. Kurt looked down at him in surprise. Dave wasn’t really a talker, but he was _inspired_. “I want to strip you bare and take my time, drive you crazy, make you come.”

Kurt moaned softly, hips shifting forward. Dave could see his cock straining in his pants, and Dave palmed it as he spoke. “There’s no way I don’t want you, nothing I don’t want to do with you.”

“Anything,” Kurt said. “You can do anything.”

Dave undid Kurt’s belt with shaking fingers, pulling down his zipper and pushing his pants down just far enough for Kurt’s cock to spring free. Kurt wasn’t looking from Dave, his face focused as Dave licked over Kurt’s cockhead, teasing him with his lips. The music changed in the gym, and the bass thrummed through the walls, matching the pulse in Dave’s ears, reminding him just where they were. 

_“Dave,”_ Kurt whispered harshly. “Stop teasing me, please. We don’t have much time. Someone could come in—” Kurt broke off in a moan, biting his finger to muffle himself as Dave sucked him down. Dave couldn’t take the time he wanted, but he could do this, could get Kurt off here and now, in the boys locker room. It felt like a statement of _intent_. 

Kurt came with a jerk, biting down on his finger, and Dave lowered him into his lap while he was still twitching. “Come home with me tonight,” Dave said, pressing kisses to Kurt’s jaw. “Please.”

Kurt nodded. “Already made plans,” he said. “I’m yours all night.”

Dave grinned. “Good,” he said. 

***

They tried their hardest to avoid being seen when they returned to the dance, but as it was, Tina giggled when she saw them, so Dave pulled her into the next dance, a foxtrot, counting on her learning enough from Mike to keep up. She did, laughing brightly when she realized what he was doing. “I didn’t know you could dance!” She said.

“I’m just full of secrets,” Dave said, then pointed at where Mike had pulled Kurt into a dance to distract her from the look that she gave him.

One by one his secrets were disappearing, and he hadn’t felt this light in years. 

***

Later that night, Dave lay back on the bed, cheerfully worn out. 

“Oh,” Kurt said, snuggling into Dave’s side. Dave ran his fingers down Kurt’s back; he’d never get enough of Kurt’s _skin_. “We’re meeting the others at Breadsticks for brunch tomorrow.”

Maybe Kurt did tell him, but Dave had no memory of such a conversation. “I hate that place,” he said, saying the first thing that came to mind.

Kurt snorted, tried to hold back giggles, but failed, laughing into Dave’s side. Dave rolled his eyes at the ceiling before digging his fingers into Kurt’s side, making him shriek with laughter. Kurt fought back, tickling Dave in return, and the two of them rolled around until the laugher was replaced by moans and wandering fingers that searched out the other’s pleasure.

***

Dave had no doubt that Kurt was the smart one, setting the alarm before they had finally fallen asleep, fucked out and exhausted, at going on five am. Kurt was also the horrible one for making Dave get up and be social when all he wanted to do was sleep, eat, and take Kurt back to bed.

But it was not to be. Kurt picked up a sleepy and stiffly-moving Puck and Finn, and got Dave to the restaurant before anybody else arrived. Dave chose his seat and watched Puck try to sit gingerly. It’s like they didn’t even care to hide it, anymore. 

Santana and Brittany were next, followed by Artie, Mike, and Tina. Berry was next, followed closely by Quinn, and finally Sam and Mercedes. Santana took one look at Dave and sat across from him, leaning her chin on her hand and watching him closely. Dave, who knew exactly what she was looking for, simply rolled his eyes. Santana sat back smugly, but kept her comments to herself. Mercedes sat next to Kurt, giving him a good hard look before snorting with amusement and looking over her menu. Dave raised an eyebrow at Kurt in question, but Kurt just shrugged his shoulders.

Dave looked over his own menu. He had never really understood the point of brunch, but liked the food well enough. Stuck between the eggs Benedict and the steak and eggs, Dave reached under the table and took Kurt’s hand. Kurt squeezed Dave’s fingers.

“I’m thinking French toast,” Kurt said.

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” Dave said. He never got eggs Benedict. But, hey. Steak. Not that Breadsticks was known for their steaks, but Dave figured he could use the protein.

The table had gone quiet. Thinking their waitress had arrived, Dave looked up to see the table staring at him. Well, everyone but Kurt, who was staring at his menu and trying not to laugh. “What?” Dave asked.

“Sweetheart?” Santana asked.

Dave blinked, then realized he must have said that loud enough for everyone to hear. He felt himself blush, but said, “Well, he wouldn’t answer to sugar muffin, so…”

Kurt snorted, and hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. “It’s not that funny,” Dave muttered.

“You’re so cute, together,” Quinn said. “It’s adorable.”

_Cute_ Dave thought. _Adorable?_ Dave looked at Kurt, who shrugged as if to say “What can you do?” Dave rolled his eyes and went back to his menu. Steak and eggs.

Once the waitress did come for their order, looking slightly harried at such a large group, Tina turned to Dave. “And you, mister! I had no idea you were such a good dancer.”

Dave shrugged. “My grandparents taught me. The last time I danced like that was at my aunt’s wedding.”

“It was fun.”

“Look at you,” Santana said. “You bake, you dance, you sing. You’ll make someone a good little wife someday.”

“Mrs. David Hummel,” Brittany said. She cocked her head. “I don’t think you’ll look right in the wedding dress, David. Your shoulders are too broad.”

Dave snapped his fingers, deadpan. “Darn.”

“Too bad you can’t still wear white, though,” Santana said, and Dave could _feel_ the smirk in her words. He tensed. He was far from ashamed about sleeping with Kurt, but it was nobody’s business but their own, especially not at . Dave met Kurt’s eyes, saw the resigned frustration there, and remembered Kurt complaining about never being seen as a sexual being. Dave wondered what it was about coming out that made everyone obsess about who you sleep with and what you did in bed, but never actually believe that you’ve done anything. “You’d look stunning.”

Casually, Dave flipped her off, and Santana laughed. Thankfully, conversation shifted away from them, and Dave breathed a sigh of relief.

There was a part of him that still wanted to protest, to insist that it wasn’t like that, that Dave wasn’t a virgin anymore. But that was the same part of him that still argued that wanting to hold Kurt’s hand wasn’t “masculine” enough, so it was easy to ignore.

Dave couldn’t imagine wanting to tell anybody about last night; it was too private, too personal for anyone else. He wondered if he’d ever get to a point when he wouldn’t be tempted to tell, to prove something.

The food came, and they fairly pounced on their food, startling their waitress with their ferocity, but Dave couldn’t care. Steak had never tasted so good, even with Kurt radiating smugness next to him, or Santana laughing at him with her eyes.

After the bulk of the food had been eaten, Berry stood at the end of the table and clapped her hands. “May I have everyone’s attention?”

Everyone groaned, and Dave reluctantly put his fork down. Berry pulled out a stack of pink papers. Even from here, Dave could see the star pattern on the heading. “In front of me, I have the official petition for the Free David’s Voice campaign.”

Dave blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Indeed, I am not,” Berry said. “Your work with Audrey II had just strengthened my resolve. David, you have a beautiful voice, and one that we need. Your willingness to play Audrey II just proves that you miss performing. You are one of us, David. It’s time for you to realize that.

Slowly, David shook his head. He looked around at the others. “Did everybody sign?” He looked at Kurt. “Even you?”

Kurt shook his head. “I had no idea. I’d have said something if I’d known.” Kurt paused. “But I can’t say I don’t like the idea.”

“All of you?” Dave asked. He was met with nods. He looked back to Berry. “I’m flattered, really, but I still can’t join.” He looked at Artie. “I’m strained for time enough as it is between the GSA and hockey and the musical. I can’t do glee, too.”

“But—” Berry started, and Dave cut her off.

“I said no, Berry. Please stop asking.”

Berry pouted, but sat back down. The tension passed quickly, but Dave saw the way Kurt kept himself turned away from Berry. Dave reached over and put his hand on Kurt's thigh. Kurt places his hand over Dave's and relaxed. 

Dave smiled into the remains of his eggs. Life was almost perfect.


	5. The Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Turning Point: characters or circumstances change (for the worse or the better) due to an action upon which the main plot hinges. The central or focal point of the play, hence the main purpose of the action._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's been a while. Many thanks to raving_liberal who came through to beta at the last moment! 
> 
> see you next week!

Dave was having the time of his life. 

Valentines Day had been wonderful. He and Kurt had gone out to a little out of the way Italian place two towns over. It wasn’t as “public” as Dave would have liked—he was still too leery of people he knew seeing them—but they were out, in public, as a couple. It had been fun and romantic, with a simmering tension that lasted throughout dinner and came to a head in the back of Kurt’s Nav, parked down in a little lot designed for joggers on an out–of–the–way side road. They had laughed as much as they had kissed and it just felt so _right_. 

He was doing well in all of his classes. He loved Kurt—had Kurt—Kurt loved him, _too!_. Dave was having more sex than he ever thought he’d be able to have. He never thought he’d be able to have who he wanted. He had his dad on his side, real friends—the GSA and the crew from the musical—and he got to sing in a way that he could let himself loose and not risk a public shaming. Dave had taken Kurt to the dance, and while only a few people know about it, they had _gone_ and it felt a little like a step towards total redemption. He had—

He had writing on his locker.

He had—

Dave stopped short, feeling the world fall away around him, buzzing in his ears like wasps. No. This couldn’t be—It said—

It said—

“Dave, what— _oh my God,_ ” Kurt stopped short, and Dave finally moved, reacting to the horror in Kurt’s voice, stumbling back with a broken sound. He couldn’t—

People were _staring_. Staring at him, staring at the red spray paint on his locker, telling him to _“Die Cocksocker!”_ and he had to—

He had to—

He couldn’t _think_.

Kurt grabbed his arm with one hand, wrapping the other around Dave’s back and pushing, guiding him away from the whispers, from his locker, from the painted _hate_. He got Dave into Coach Beiste’s office and sat next to him, pulling Dave over to hide his face in Kurt’s neck. Dave clung, gripping tighter when Beiste burst through the door.

“Dave,” she said, taking a knee in front of him. “What happened?”

Dave didn’t look up. He couldn’t look up. How could he look Beiste in the face and tell her—

“Sue caught me in the hall,” Beiste said. “Told me to get here, that she had a death squad to organize?”

Dave let out a strangled noise that may have, at one point, aspired to be a laugh if laughs sounded like a hysterical moose. Kurt squeezed the back of Dave’s neck, and he relaxed slightly into the pressure, feeling himself teeter back from the edge of hysteria.

“David,” Beiste said.

“They vandalized his locker with some rather violent hate speech,” Kurt said. His voice was steady, cold. It was only the slight tremor at the end that gave voice to the urge to do violence to someone’s soft bits. “It was a shock.”

“They?” Beiste said, low and dangerous, and Dave thought her locker room nickname of “The Beast” had never been more accurate.

“What did they write?” Beiste asked, and Dave could feel Kurt tense as he hesitated. Dave appreciated what Kurt was trying to do, but Dave’s initial gut-wrenching horror was fading—he was angry, _furious_ , and he snarled.

“’Die Cocksucker!’,” Dave said. “Okay? In three inch high red letters. And they were oh-so-careful to not let the paint touch the other lockers. Wasn’t that _nice_ of them.”

It didn’t escape Dave’s notice that this happened _today_ , the first day at school after the dance. Dave had thought about it before, being attacked like this, but the language was always a little more general. There was something specific about the wording that made Dave think he hadn’t just been _outed._

He and Kurt had been _seen_. Somebody saw Dave on his knees for Kurt and tried to turn something private and special between the two of them into something dirty. Shameful.

Except Dave wasn’t ashamed of Kurt, and he _was_ a cocksucker, in the literal sense of the word. He loved it, everything from the way his mouth could make Kurt buck and writhe and curse—there was a power there, and it was _heady_ —to the way giving pleasure made him _feel_. It felt like a _fuck you_ in all the best ways. _You think I can’t be gay?_ Fuck you _, I’m gay and_ good at it _. Oh, a big, strong tough guy can’t be on his knees?_ Fuck you _, it_ takes _strength to get on your knees, to willingly accept a position symbolic of a lack of power, and I am stronger than all of you fuckers, because I know the_ truth _. I am not less because of who I love and how I choose to show that love._

Sometimes, in the moment, Dave would wonder with a flyaway thought what people would say if they could see he and Kurt together, could see their dynamic at their most intimate moments.

Turns out, all they could say was the same old ignorant shit.

Dave was going to break his face. Whoever it was.

Sitting up straight, Dave clenched his hands into fists and slowly let them open, repeating the process as he struggled to calm himself down. _Use your anger, Dave. Focus it._ If Dave could channel that energy, he’d be able to make it through the day.

“Dave,” Beiste said. “Do you want to go home? You don’t need to stay here today.”

Dave thought about it, but he shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’ll just make it worse; it’ll make them think that they won and scared me away. I’m not giving them that satisfaction.”

He saw Kurt smiling from the corner of his eye, but Beiste looked him over, nearly staring him down. “All right,” she said after a long moment. “But I don’t want to hear about you doing anything to get back at them. I’ve seen your temper, Karofsky.”

Dave couldn’t look at her. She hadn’t called him by his last name in weeks. It had to be deliberate. “No ma’am,” he said through gritted teeth. He hated lying to Coach, but how honestly, what could he say? He knew what she wanted to hear, he just wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep calm.

“Okay.” Coach said. “Then get to class.” She paused. “Is there anything you need from your locker?”

“I can get it, if he needs,” Kurt said, standing with Dave, his hand gentle on Dave’s elbow, and Dave wanted to brush it off, because he was _fine_ , damnit, pissed but fine—but he didn’t because it was Kurt and if Dave brushed Kurt off, Kurt would and could fight back and he knew Kurt was only trying to help and that was enough to ease the rough edges. Kurt said his thanks to Coach as Dave left the office, thankful that the hall was empty—the bell for first period had rung while he and Kurt were tied up—and walked with determination back to his locker.

Kurt hurried after him, falling into step beside him, and Dave was glad, suddenly _very_ glad to have Kurt with him because Kurt _understood_ in a way that he didn’t think anybody else in this school could understand—even Santana with her anger and her in-your-face sexuality couldn’t understand, wouldn’t let herself understand. Dave needed someone beside him that wasn’t a raw nerve.

There was no way to scrub the paint off that quickly. The janitor would have to work on it tonight, but for now they’d covered the paint with a long sheet of black paper like a sensor bar. Dave shook his head. _Because that’s any less conspicuous._

“Yogi!”

Dave turned. Coach Sylvester was walking rapidly towards him, Becky a step behind and to her right. Sylvester stopped just within arms reach. “I don’t do this often,” she said. “I find it makes me break out in a rather violent rash, but some things must be endured for the greater good.” And with that, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him in for a quick hug.

It felt like hugging a marble statue. A marble statue of a cactus. Sylvester’s whistle dug sharply into Dave’s chest, and he was pretty sure he had a bruise from her collarbone. “I swear on the life of my third first place trophy that we will find who did this. And when we do, they’ll wish they’d never heard the name of Sue Sylvester.”

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, Sylvester striding down the hall once again, nodding a quick “Porcelain” to Kurt, with Becky in her position as Sylvester’s right hand.

“What just happened?” Kurt asked.

“I’m not quite sure,” Dave said. “But I think I was just comforted by Coach Sylvester.”

Kurt blinked. He looked at Dave. “Do you feel comforted?”

“I… I’m not sure.” Dave thought for a moment. Now that the shock was fading, he had to admit, he did feel a bit better. “I think I do.”

Kurt raised both eyebrows. “Will wonders never cease.”

Dave snorted and turned back. His locker was still daunting, but manageable enough that he was able to pull out his books for first and second period. No point coming back before then. He stuffed his backpack inside and shut the door, staring at the paper.

“Dave,” Kurt said, quietly. “Babe.” Dave looked at Kurt full on for the first time that day. Kurt looked good—he always dressed best when he was happy, sharpest when he was not—but it was the look in his eyes that stopped Dave. There were the emotions Dave expected to see—empathy, concern—but there was a fury there, barely banked, that made Dave blink.

“You’re pissed,” Dave said. He wondered when the last time somebody had been that angry on his behalf.

Kurt frowned. “Of course I’m pissed. Those assholes came after the man I love. I want to tear them apart with my _teeth_.”

Dave huffed out an amused breath, feeling himself gain his footing once more. “I really shouldn’t find that kind of violence comforting,” Dave said. “But I do. Sexy, too.” He waggled his eyebrows and Kurt huffed.

“You’ve been watching that werewolf show again, haven’t you?” Kurt said, his own anger subsiding for the time being.

Dave pointed his finger. “It’s a good show, and you’ve watched it too, or you wouldn’t have made that reference.”

“Of course I watch it,” Kurt said. “Have you seen that cast? It’s like they’re allergic to shirts.” He crossed his arms. “I mean it, though. I’m a non-violent person, but I want to do all kinds of harm right now.”

“I believe it,” Dave said, and he meant it. Kurt’s fire was one of the things Dave loved most about him, and its presence reassured Dave that things would be okay more than any platitude. He reached out and snagged Kurt by a belt loop and pulled him closer.

“David!” Kurt said, surprised, but let Dave reel him in and kiss him, returning the kiss in kind and letting it end naturally before he said, “We’re in the hallway.”

“I don’t care,” Dave said, tightening his grip. “Nobody’s here. The cat’s out of the bag, anyway, and I just really needed to kiss you then.”

Kurt smiled at that. “You can kiss me anytime,” he said. “But Coach Beiste is going to come around that corner any minute, and we really don’t want to be caught here. She might make you go talk to Ms. Pillsbury, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

Talking to Ms. P might not actually be that bad, but Kurt was right. The last thing Dave wanted was to dwell on this now. “Okay. Class.”

“Class,” Kurt agreed. “You got this.”

“I got this,” Dave agreed. He kissed Kurt again, reveling in the fact that he _could_ , and forced himself to walk to first period as if everything hadn’t just changed in ways he really didn’t want to think about.

 

***

Nobody said anything.

Well, that’s not true. _Az_ didn’t say anything, just nodded at him, holding his fist for a bump when Dave sat down, and pulled him into a one-armed bro-hug after the bell rang. Santana didn’t say anything either, just looked him over like she was checking for wounds, and nodded at him before picking on Brett, who was too stoned to notice.

Everyone else, on the other hand. Well. Everybody seemed to have something to say. He got sympathy from his friends—his favorite was Finn’s eloquent “Dude…” that really did seem to say it all. Puck said he’d hold whoever did it when Dave finally found out who it was. Mercedes said she’d pray for him (which made Kurt roll his eyes, and Dave would have joined him if Papa hadn’t drilled respect of other’s beliefs into his head. Instead, he took it in the spirit it was meant and thanked her).

He caught some static. Some of his buddies on the football team said things as he passed, even Strando with a “The fuck, bro?” But Dave didn’t get too much of this. Everyone knew that the first person seen hating on Dave would be snapped up by one of Sylvester’s Cheerios-turned-Stormtroopers and probably blamed for his locker. Mostly, it was whispers.

And there were a lot of whispers. All sorts of whispers, from all sorts of people. There was speculation (“What did it say?” “You think it’s true? He doesn’t look gay.” “He’s never really had a girlfriend.” “What about Santana?” “Please, Santana’s hardly a girl.”), and rumors (“It was because of that club of his.” “Nah, it was that Hummel kid. Dude totally had a rageboner for him last year.” “Nah, he totally went gay because he couldn’t get any of the girls to put out, I mean, I’ve heard stories about prison. A guy could get pretty desperate when denied pussy.), and hate (“Serves him right, faggot.” “Somebody better follow up quick, before he infects the rest of us.”).

Kurt had to have heard the whispers, but he showed no sign of it, not the way Dave did. Kurt didn’t duck his head when people stopped talking as he approached. Kurt didn’t hold his pen just a little too tightly, snapping it and sending ink all over his textbook. Kurt didn’t nearly punch Jewfro when he shoved a microphone in Dave’s face.

Dave leaned back, pushing Ben Israel’s hand away, muttering “no comment” as he shoved past, knocking into him with his shoulder in a move so familiar and practiced he felt queasy when he realized just how easy it had been. He turned a corner and had to lean against the wall, alone in the nook, to catch his breath. Karofsky had been closer to the surface than Dave had realized; he’d come so far, he didn’t want to slip back.

But maybe he could borrow a few moves. Just until things calmed down.

Dave squared his shoulders, pulling on his anger like armor, and walked into the locker room with his old cocky swagger.

Absolute silence.

No whispers. No comments. Not even the sound of the lockers themselves as everyone stopped what they were doing to look at Dave.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Dave sneered and walked over to his locker. He stopped when he saw it. It was even worse than his locker in the hallway; the lock had been forced and the contents spilled all over, torn and covered with shaving cream and, from the smell, someone had pissed on his pads. Dave closed his eyes, clenching his jaw and clutching the strap to his backpack so hard his knuckles ached. “Really?” he said, quietly.

Cooper must have mistaken his quiet with meekness, because he strutted forward, legs already in his pads. “David Karofsky,” he said, mock surprised like Dave had just walked into a trap. It felt like a trap. Dave gripped his anger tightly. “I’m surprised you showed your face today. Surely you know there’s no room for _cocksuckers_ in hockey.”

Dave narrowed his eyes. “Cooper. I should have known. I mean, I know you were jealous of my skills, but this…” Dave trailed off, letting the implication fill the silence. He saw a few people hide smiles at that, Meyers had to turn his head, but there weren’t enough. Dave’s stomach started to sink; he was outnumbered.

“This has nothing to do with your lame-ass skills,” Cooper said, face red. Dave’s remarks had hit close to home, and Dave scented blood in the water. He smirked. _Nice play, Shakespeare_. Score one for Dave. But he had no time to celebrate, to move in for the next strike, because Cooper struck first, a cheap shot but it was enough.

“I saw you with your little faggot boyfriend,” Cooper spat, and all the room’s attention snapped to him. “On your knees, sucking his dick.”

Well, there it was. Dave’s worst fear, flopping around like a dying fish in front of him, and it was suddenly ridiculous. Cooper was a little shit; why the fuck was Dave letting him get away with this? He was David _fucking_ Karofsky. He wasn’t going to let this bag of dicks get the last word.

Dave barked out a laugh, short and sharp. “Yeah, and I bet you stayed to watch, you sick fuck. Bet you got off on it, too,” Dave shot back, not bothering to deny it. There was no point; it was out there. He was out. There was no going back. Time to _own it_. “You’re pathetic—can’t get a girl to suck your own dick, you have to resort to peeping through keyholes?”

A low hum built as the team “oooh’d” and Meyers, it had to be Meyers, cackled. Cooper shook, he was so mad.

“Least my girl _is_ a girl,” Cooper said. “Though, I guess that means Hummel has a dick after all.”

Dave started forward, pushing into Cooper’s space, fisting his hand in Cooper’s jersey. Cooper looked startled for a moment, then smug, like he had proved a point.

“You leave Kurt out of this,” Dave said.

Cooper held his hands up. “Hey. It’s not _Hummel’s_ dick that’s in question. Tell me,” Cooper looked down at Dave’s crotch. “Do you even need a cup?”

“You know he does,” Meyers cut in, obviously trying to stop this before it went any farther. Dave wasn’t sure he wanted to stop. He wanted to pound Cooper’s face into the pavement. “We’ve been in the shower with him. It’s kinda hard to miss.” Dave looked over at Meyers, who shrugged. “What? I’m not gay, but I’m not blind.”

Dave shook his head. He looked back at Cooper and shoved him back. “Whatever,” he said. Cooper wasn’t worth it. As it was, he had to go to Coach and explain why he couldn’t change for practice today. And he’d have to get new pads; it wasn’t worth trying to save those. He turned, signaling that it was over. He looked around the room. Nobody would meet his eyes except for Meyers who, _huh_ , was dressed in his street clothes and had his backpack over his shoulder. Maybe it wasn’t a total loss.

His only warning was the screech of metal on metal as Cooper shoved the bench out of the way and launched himself at Dave. Dave, half-turned, was caught by surprise and went down, landing hard on his shoulder. He rolled towards Cooper, trying to trap him under Dave’s mass, but Cooper was too fast, slipping out and over Dave, winding up for a punch. Dave caught his fist, gritting his teeth against the jar and shoving up. Cooper fell back, bouncing up and into Dave’s fist as Dave came across with a left hook that connected cleanly with Cooper’s jaw.

Pain exploded from Dave’s hand, radiating out from his knuckles, and he cried out, pulling his hand in even as Cooper staggered back, clearly dazed. Dave scooted back, pushing with his feet and keeping his arm across his chest until his back hit the lockers.

Beiste burst into the room, followed by Coach Jones and Meyers.

“Dave,” Beiste said, crouching down at his side. “You okay?”

“Uh,” Dave said. He tried to flex his fingers and winced, tears coming to his eyes. “Not really, Coach.” She looked up, saw the ring of students, the pile of shit that was Dave’s locker, and the bruise darkening on Cooper’s chin, putting two and two together and getting “jumped in the locker room.”

“Come on,” she said, helping Dave to his feet. Once again, Dave was struck by how _strong_ Beiste was and thanked anyone who was listening that she was on his side. “Let’s get you to the nurse and you can tell me what happened in your own words.” Dave nodded and took his bag from Meyers, who held it out. “You too, Meyers,” she said. “Go get the principal and meet us there.”

“Yes Coach,” Meyers said, and jogged off.

They didn’t talk on the way to the nurse, Dave quite happy to preoccupy his mind with the pain in his hand, and Beiste radiating anger next to him.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” Dave said quietly, once they were at the nurse’s office and he was sitting on the cot in the back. “I shouldn’t have hit him, but he was on me and—”

“David,” Beiste said, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

Dave took a deep breath, and did. He told her about the whispers and the comments and the way he’d discovered his locker. He told her how Cooper had come for him, leaving out that Cooper had seen him and Kurt on the night of the dance. He said how he was leaving before it got physical and Cooper jumped him from behind, that he had punched to get Cooper off of him.

The nurse came back in, poking at Dave’s hand, and told him that he’d need to go to the emergency room for x-rays to make sure nothing was broken. Dave nodded tightly—he’d broken bones before and this had the same sickening crunch of pain to it—and she wrapped his hand in ice as Coach Jones walked in with Cooper, Principal Figgins following behind.

“I have to say,” Figgins started. “That I am severely disappointed in the two of you. Especially you, David. I thought you’d learned your lesson after last year.”

“What?” Dave said, straightening. “I didn’t—”

Figgins held up a hand, and Dave slumped back.

“Cooper attacked Dave,” Beiste said. “Dave was only fighting back. We have a witness.” Beiste nodded at Meyers.

“Still,” Figgins said. “We can’t allow this kind of violence on campus. Consider both of you under temporary suspension. I expect to see both of you here tomorrow with your parents to discuss your punishment.” Figgins shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it was because of the source of the fight, or the possibility of legal ramifications, Dave wasn’t sure. Knowing Figgins, it could be either. “As I understand it, you both need further medical attention.”

“I’m taking Dave to the E.R.,” Beiste said, and Dave looked at her in surprise. “If you could call his father and have him meet us there.”

Figgins nodded, and the nurse flashed a light in Cooper’s eyes. Dave took a little satisfaction in the way he winced, but he didn’t for long. Beiste urged him to his feet and Dave shuffled after her to her car. He tired, very tired. He sank into the passenger seat with a grateful sigh.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Beiste said. “Sue told me about what happened with you and Kurt last year, and I don’t trust Figgins where you’re concerned.”

Dave felt warmed. “Thanks, Coach.”

Beiste just nodded and handed over a phone. It was Dave’s. It must have fallen out of his pocket. “Here. Call your Dad.” She paused and raised an eyebrow at him. “Hummel, huh?”

Dave blushed, pressing the speed dial for his Dad instead of answering. “Hi Dad,” he said after a moment. “Well—not really. Coach is driving me to the hospital…”

***

Two bones broken in three places. Six to eight weeks of healing. No more hockey.

“It could be worse,” said the E.R. doctor as he wrapped his hand. “It could be your right hand.”

Dave gave him a flat look. “I’m left-handed.”

The doctor paused. “Sorry.” He looked Dave over. “What’s the other guy look like?”

Dave’s mouth twitched. It was almost a smile. “He was looking a little dazed last time I saw him.”

Paul walked in, closing his phone. “Well,” he said. “We have an appointment in Figgins’s office tomorrow morning at ten am.”

“Great,” Dave said. Paul sighed, sitting on the bed next to Dave, wrapping his arm around Dave’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry about hockey,” he said. Dave just sighed, and stood.

“I’m going to wait in the waiting room,” he said, and walked out the door. His dad would have to get the instructions, then wait to get the prescription filled. He fiddled with his phone as he walked, turning it back on. He’d called Kurt before, but it had gone to voicemail, which meant Kurt was actually singing in rehearsal today. Dave had to turn his own phone off before Kurt had a chance to respond, and all he wanted to do was talk to his boyfriend.

Dave picked a chair that looked the least uncomfortable and sat down. His phone finally booted up. No messages. He sank back into his chair. _Fuck_.

He looked up, hearing a familiar voice in the hall, and Carole Hudson-Hummel stuck her head into the room. “Hi David,” she said.

“Hi, Mrs. Hummel” Dave said, standing and waving hello with his good hand.

“You have a visitor,” she said, and stepped back, letting Kurt into the room.

“Kurt!” Dave said, and then had his arms full of worried boyfriend. “I’m so glad to see you,” Dave said into Kurt’s hair.

“I got your message,” Kurt said into Dave’s neck. “I came right over.”

Dave squeezed him tighter. This was better than any message.

“Dave,” Kurt said. “What happened?”

“I broke my hand on Cooper’s face,” he said. Kurt froze for a moment, and Dave continued. “He came for me in the locker room. They trashed my locker, he started spouting shit, and when I went to leave he rushed me. He… he saw us,” he said, quietly. Kurt gasped and Dave pressed on, “I’m pretty sure he won’t say anything. At this point, it’s a matter of he said-she said, and being that he swung first, they’re probably not going to listen to him too closely.”

“I would hope not,” Kurt said, pulling back. “But I find myself almost disappointed you didn’t do him more damage.”

Dave laughed, bitterly. “I think I gave him a concussion, Kurt. That’s pretty serious.” More serious that any hurt he had caused as a bully. He wondered what that said about him. Firmly, he pushed the thought from his mind. No point in dwelling now.

Kurt hmmd. “He hurt my boyfriend. He can rot in hell, for all I care.” Dave grinned. “What?” Kurt snapped.

“You, Kurt Hummel, are vicious,” Dave drawled. 

Kurt ran his hand through Dave’s hair. “Only when someone threatens my loved ones.”

Dave closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Kurt ended up following Dave home, helping him up the stairs to his room now that the painkillers had kicked in and reality was slightly… woozy. Dave sat on his bed, pulling his shoes off as Kurt fussed, setting down their bags and pulling out pajamas for Dave. Dave watched Kurt, bewildered that Kurt already knew where Dave kept all of his things, and started to unbutton his shirt. Dave managed to get it almost completely off, but was stymied when he couldn’t get the sleeve over his cast.

“Hold on,” Kurt said, dropping the pajamas on the bed next to Dave and taking Dave’s hand in his own. He eased the shirt over the cast, and Dave blinked up at him, smiling slowly. “What?” Kurt asked, softly.

“You,” Dave said.

“What about me?”

“You’re amazing.” Dave reached out with his good hand and pulled Kurt in close, leaning back to pull Kurt down with him. Kurt flailed, falling over onto his hands, lying on top of Dave. Dave hummed; Kurt was warm, and settled nicely against Dave like pieces in a puzzle. It was _really_ nice, and Dave started to drift.

“Dave. Are you falling asleep?”

“Hmm.”

Kurt pulled back, and Dave frowned, reaching after him without opening his eyes until he felt Kurt’s hands on his belt. Dave’s eyes shot open, and he looked down.

“Kurt?” Not that Dave didn’t love that Kurt was willing to make the first move, the painkillers were doing there thing and there was just no way he could get it up right now. Still, he wouldn’t say no to skin, and he could probably still make Kurt happy. Yeah, Dave could be on board with that.

“Come on,” Kurt said, grabbing Dave’s waistband and tugging gently. “Pajamas.”

“Right.” Dave said. Kurt wasn’t hitting on him. He knew that. Kurt helped Dave wiggle out of his jeans and into his pajamas. He swung his legs onto the bed and held his arms out for Kurt. The last thing he remembered before the day caught up with him and he fell asleep was the smell of Kurt’s shampoo as he kissed the top of Kurt’s head.

***

Dave woke early the next morning, the ache from his hand pulling him from his drugged slumber. He felt vaguely hungover, and scrubbed his right hand over his face. He was dried out and puffy and alone. He looked around. There was a glass of water and a note next to his pill bottle. Dave reached across himself to grasp it awkwardly.

_Dave,_  
Good morning, sleepy! One pill makes you taller…  
Feel better soon, Babe,  
Kurt 

Dave smiled and sat up, grabbing his pill bottle. Kurt had left the top off, so Dave didn’t need to fight with it as he shook out a pill and downed it with the water. He stood, following his stomach downstairs.

Paul was in the kitchen cooking eggs in a pan, and Dave sat at the table, bracing his head in his hand.

“Finally awake, huh?” Paul said. Dave shrugged.

“I really don’t want to do this,” Dave said.

Paul sighed. “Me, either.”

***

“Suspended!” Cooper yelled. “I can’t be suspended! We have a big game this Friday!”

“Well then you should have thought of that before you attacked another student, unprovoked,” Beiste countered. Dave bit his lip to keep from smiling. Cooper had a full week of suspension, which, while it wasn’t nearly as severe as it should be, was better than nothing. Cooper slumped back in his seat, looking at his father.

Mr. Cooper looked like exactly the kind of man to raise a dick like Cooper; from his stupid mullet to his stupid expression, he just radiated…stupid. He had made a comment earlier about how ridiculous it was for Cooper to have to face punishment over some “prank.” After all, “it’s not my son’s fault if some faggot can’t take a joke.”

Mr. Cooper was very lucky that Sylvester got to him first, because if it had been Paul, they might have ended up back at the hospital.

“And as for you, David,” Figgins said, and Dave sat up straighter. “While I understand you were not at fault here, this school does have a strict non-violence policy—one that you helped implement.” Dave nodded. Figures he wouldn’t get out of this easy. “You will serve one Saturday detention this weekend with Coach Beiste.”

That—wasn’t so bad. Detention with Coach was a lot better than suspension for fighting. And it wasn’t as if he had to worry about hockey anymore. Dave nodded.

Kurt was waiting at the end of the hallway when they walked out of the office, turning away when Cooper and his father walked by, but coming closer once Dave saw him. Dave stepped aside while Paul spoke with Sylvester and Beiste.

“Hey,” Kurt said.

“Hi,” Dave said, and pulled Kurt into a hug. Kurt stiffened in surprise, but quickly relaxed into the embrace. “I missed you this morning,” Dave whispered. Kurt chuckled.

“You were _so_ gone, and it was a school night.” He pulled back. “You… you’re really okay with this, aren’t you?”

Dave shrugged. “I haven’t wanted to hide in a while. I’m not going to let that fucker win by diving back into the closet.” He grinned. “Especially if that means I get to touch you in public.”

Kurt laughed, but there was a surprised little edge to it, that couldn’t mean what Dave wanted it to.

_Could it?_

It was something to think about, but Dave pushed all thoughts of public displays out of his mind. Not while they were at school. Paul joined them, and Dave finally let Kurt go. “Hello, Kurt. Are we going to see you later?” Paul asked.

“Definitely,” Kurt said. “I have to get to class.” He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and kissed Dave quickly, one of those couple kisses that was little more than a quick brush of lips, but it made Dave buzz pleasantly. He and Kurt had _couple_ kisses.

Because they were a _couple_.

Dave knew he’d get over the novelty soon, but probably not until he was weaned off the heavy painkillers.

***

Early afternoon found Dave dicking around on his computer, antsy with the returning pain, but unable to take his next dose for another two hours.

It’s funny how, as soon as you have nothing you need to do, there’s nothing you want to do, either.

Picking his way across the keys with his right hand, Dave logged into Facebook.

Dave blinked. That…was a lot of notifications. He didn’t want to click on them, he had a bad feeling that they weren’t from well-wishers, but he still moved the mouse over the icon. He still clicked that button.

The page loaded, and Dave leaned back, as if getting further away could make the words hurt less. He had—he had no idea who some of these people were, but somehow they _hated_ him, they hated the very _idea_ of him, they wanted him _dead_ —

Dave slammed his laptop closed, breathing heavily through his nose as he tried to keep calm.

_Well._

Dave squared his shoulders and glared at the computer. “Fuck that,” Dave muttered and opened it again.

“First things first,” he muttered, and changed his account to “Private.” He then went to his wall and began to click. “Delete, delete, delete…”

Later on, when Kurt arrived, he found Dave staring at his culled friend list.

“Dave?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know what gives people the freedom to be dicks over the internet,” Dave said. “I mean, it’s Facebook. I know who you are, asshole.”

Kurt crouched next to Dave’s chair. “Did something happen?”

Dave gestured at the screen with his cast. “They blew up my wall,” he said. “It took me almost _two hours_ to clean everything up.” He clicked out of his friends list. “I have one thing left, then you have me for the evening.”

“Okay,” Kurt said and watched as Dave changed his settings to “Interested in: Men” and “In a relationship with: Kurt Hummel. (pending)”

Kurt’s phone dinged, and he pulled it from his satchel. He quickly brought up his Facebook app and confirmed Dave’s request. “There,” he said, and giggled. “Facebook official.”

“We should celebrate,” Dave said. “I want ice cream.”

Kurt blinked. “It’s February.”

“So?” Dave shrugged. “I just got blown up on Facebook. I’m officially, completely out of the closet. If that doesn’t deserve ice cream…” he trailed off.

“I don’t know,” Kurt mused. “Maybe some rainbow sorbet. There is a theme, you know.”

Dave snorted. “Butterscotch. Milkshake.”

“Fine,” Kurt rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “We can call everybody, tell them to meet us? They all want to see you.”

“Sure,” Dave said. “But tell Sebastian that he’s buying his own ice cream. He can afford that car, he can afford a freakin’ milkshake.”

Kurt laughed, sending a mass text as Dave pulled on his sneakers. He didn’t usually wear his Vans in the winter, and almost never to school, but they were the only shoes he owned that didn’t have laces, and until his hand healed a little more, laces were a no-go.

Kurt’s phone beeped the first time when they got to the bottom of his stairs, and Kurt laughed, showing Dave the message.

_Tell Cubby that getting others to pay for my things is what keeps me rich._

Dave snorted. “Then tell him to share that wealth.”

It was harder than Dave expected to climb into Kurt’s Nav. He hadn’t realized just how much he used his left hand when getting into the passenger seat. Kurt turned the car on and handed his phone off to Dave when it dinged again. It took some finagling, but Dave was able to check the message. “Finn said he and Puck will meet us there.”

“Excellent,” Kurt said, and put the Nav in reverse, backing it out of the driveway. Once on the road, he began to flip through radio stations, landing on the tail end of “Bad Romance.”

The song switched to the low melodies of a sad guitar, and harmonies of a violin, and Dave frowned at the radio. It seemed familiar. Then, a man’s voice started to sing:

_“Life’s too short to even care at all, woah-oh.”_

Dave reached out, changing the radio to another station with his broken hand. Dave sat back scowling. Kurt raised his eyebrows at him, and Dave shrugged.

“I hate that song.”

Kurt just nodded and turned up the volume a tad as Jessie J sang that she was sexy and free, just like a domino. After a moment, Kurt started to bop his head. Dave started to tap his toe. And when the second chorus hit, they both belted out:

_“Rock my world until the sunlight_  
Make this dream the best I've ever known  
Dirty dancing in the moonlight  
Take me down like I'm a domino” 

Dave laughed, curling over in the seat, and was still chuckling when Kurt parked the car. Sebastian was in the parking lot, looking every inch the smug snot as he leaned against his convertible, and it was just so obnoxious that Dave relaxed a fraction. Finn’s truck pulled in behind them, and as Dave closed the Nav’s door behind him, he saw Brittany inside with Santana, waving at them from a table.

“Dude,” Puck said, coming up to clap Dave around the shoulders. “Word on the street is you took on the entire hockey team and put Cooper in the hospital for insulting your boy.”

“Not the entire team,” Dave protested as Puck led him inside.

“Ben Israel has been running speculations on his blog,” Kurt admitted. “They’re all kinda crazy, but people are believing them.”

“I’m a fan of the orgy rumor,” Santana said, shifting over so they could all sit.

“You would be,” Dave grumbled, sitting on the end. After all was said and done, they were still a seat shy, so Dave twisted and offered his lap to Kurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow at Dave, but Dave just grinned, waggling his own, and Kurt sat, rolling his eyes. Dave just hooked an arm around Kurt’s waist, holding him in place—but mostly just holding him—and grinned at the cooing noise Brittany made.

***

Dave went back to school on Thursday. He couldn’t drive himself in, so Kurt had offered to be his ride.

“As long as you don’t mind staying late for glee a few days a week. I mean, I could take you home if you need to, but—”

“It’s fine,” Dave had said. “I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. He could use the time in the library to make sure he didn’t fall behind in his school work, or he could hang out in the choir room with his friends and watch them sing. Watch Kurt sing.

Kurt picked him up in the morning with a kiss and a to-go cup of coffee, because Kurt was _awesome_ , and Dave arrived at school determined to go about his day as if nothing had changed.

And really—nothing had. Yeah, more people looked at him, and he was followed by more whispers that he’d like, but his locker had been scrubbed clean and nobody confronted him. Not even Ben Israel—though that may have been the way Az grabbed, and broke, the guy’s mic.

Az was cool. In first period, he told Dave that the other guys on the football team were keeping an eye on the rest of the hockey players. So far, nobody had done anything.

“Except that Meyers kid,” Az said. “He walked right up to me, like he had room to talk to me, you know?”

“Meyers is cool,” Dave said. “Funny guy. He got Coach when shit went down.”

Az studied Dave for a moment. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Look, you want my notes?”

Dave snorted. “You mean to tell me you took actual notes?”

“Why you so surprised, man?” Az scoffed, like Dave didn’t know Az’s study habits. At Dave’s look, Az shrugged him off. “Whatever, fucker.”

Dave sat back in his seat, laughing. He pulled out his notebook and a pen, and with a sigh he tried to take notes.

Ambidextrous he was not. He gave up ten minutes in and spent the rest of the class staring at a spot three inches to the left of the teacher’s ear.

The rest of the day went much the same. Santana actually took notes, promising them to Dave later that day. She found him at lunch, sitting pressed against Kurt, and shoved the papers in his face before striding out of the cafeteria. Dave looked down at the notes: they were more comprehensive than he’d expected, and he started to laugh as he read. Santana had commented on her own notes with her typical bitchy wit, and Dave tucked the papers away to read over later.

Dave and Kurt separated with a short kiss just outside the cafeteria, the first they’d shared in full view of the student body, and Dave listened carefully for comments as he made his way to Spanish. Suz popped up next to him, bumping into him with a barely repressed grin.

“What?” Dave asked, fighting his own smile, and Suz giggled.

“You two are adorable,” she said. “FYI.”

“Shut up,” Dave grumbled, but he could feel himself flush. He was _happy_ , goddammit. It didn’t have to be such a big thing.

“Missed you this week,” she said. She looked down at his hand. “Though, I guess that means you’ve gone over fully to the dark side.”

“Sorry,” Dave said, waving the cast in apology.”

“It’s cool,” Suz said. “Catch you later.” She jogged off, and Dave realized she’d walked him the entire way to Spanish. Huh.

***

Dave sank into his seat in English, wondering when Kurt was going to get there. Mercedes sat next to him. She must have been right behind him without him realizing. 

“Boy, you’ve got a terminal case of the sappy look, you know that?” Mercedes said.

Dave blinked at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” she said. “Look in the mirror and think of your boy and then tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Dave ducked his head. He knew _exactly_ what she was talking about. He’d seen that look on his face a lot since New Year’s. Well, to be honest, he’d seen it before then, too.

“So?” Dave asked quietly. “What of it?”

“Nothing,” Mercedes said. “It’s a good look for you.”

Kurt slipped into the seat next to Dave, and Dave grinned at him. Yeah. Happy was a _great_ look for him.

***

Dave climbed gratefully into the Nav after school that day. Rehearsal had been cancelled—Kurt had waved the explanation away with a comment about Inherent Drama and how he didn’t want to know more about Schue’s personal life than he already did, and Dave took that to mean he and Ms. P were having problems of some kind. Either way, Dave was tired, and happy to be getting back home.

“You want to come in for a while?” Dave asked as Kurt parked in Dave’s driveway.

“Sure,” Kurt said. “If you think you can trust me with your virtue in an empty house?”

Dave snorted. “I trust you to take me in a manly fashion.”

Kurt giggled. “Is it because you’re pretty?”

“It’s because I’m pretty,” Dave said, nodding mock-seriously. For all their sap and flirting and making out, it was moments like this that really drove home that he and Kurt were together, that they _worked_ together; that Dave could mangle a _Firefly_ reference and Kurt would not only get it, but be able to respond in kind.

Dave handed Kurt his key—it was easier than wrestling with it with the wrong hand—and checked the mail. A couple bills, a newspaper circular, and a large white envelope with a stamp that said “Do Not Bend” addressed to him from Rutgers University.

“Holy shit,” Dave breathed. With everything that had happened, Dave had _forgotten_ to check his college applications.

“Babe?” Kurt turned and saw the giant envelope in Dave’s hands. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I… I think so,” Dave said. “I mean. They wouldn’t sent a big packet like this if they were rejecting me, right?”

Kurt lay a hand on Dave’s arm, and Dave snapped out of it. “Come on,” he said. “Kitchen.” Dave followed Kurt inside the house, dropping his backpack by the bottom of the stairs. The rest of the mail was thrown in a heap on the table, and he sat down still holding the large envelope.

He tore open the top and pulled out a shiny folder with the Rutgers seal on the top right corner, and one of those canned pictures of happy college students. He opened the envelope.

There were several papers, pamphlets in different colors, even a booklet, tucked into the folder’s pockets, but loose in between the sides, was a single sheet of paper. Dave read aloud:

“Dear David. Congratulations and Welcome to Rutgers! You have been accepted to more than one college in the University. Visit Your Rutgers Status for details…”

Dave sat back, looked up at Kurt. “I got in. I got into Rutgers!”

“That’s amazing!” Kurt said. Dave laughed, grinning at Kurt, and held his arms wide. Kurt was around the table in seconds, gripping Dave tight. “I’m so proud of you.” He pulled back to look at Dave. “Have you applied anywhere else?”

Dave shrugged. “OSU. University of California, San Francisco.” 

Kurt blinked. “That’s kinds of far flung.”

“I’m getting out of Lima,” Dave said. “As far away as I can get. Either coast works.” He hesitated. “Though, I am leaning more East Coast than West Coast at the moment.”

“Oh?” Kurt said. He sounded breathless, almost like he knew what was coming and didn’t believe it.

Dave nodded. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about the future, but—” Dave took a deep breath. “When I picture the future now, I see us. In a year, five years—ten and beyond. I love you Kurt. I don’t want us to end prematurely because we can’t take the distance. Rutgers is only an hour from New York, and it’s right on the train line. It’s a workable distance.” Dave hesitated. _For me_ , he didn’t add, wanting to know, but not wanting to court a “but not for me” from Kurt.

After a long moment, Kurt said, “I like that plan.” He looked up at Dave. “It will be an adjustment. We’ve never done long distance before.”

“We’ll make it work,” Dave said. “Kurt, look what we’ve been through already. I really believe that together? We can do anything.”

Kurt grinned, leaning closer and brushing their noses together. “Romantic,” he teased.

“You love it,” Dave returned, feeling Kurt’s breath warm against his lips.

“I do,” Kurt said, so soft it was almost a whisper, and kissed Dave gently. Dave cupped the back of Kurt’s head with his good hand, adding a depth of promise to the kiss. It had been a crazy-ass week. His worst fears had come to pass, and Dave had not only weathered them, but come out of it with a promise for the future brighter than any he had before dared to dream.


	6. Entr’acte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things are resolved. some things begin. 
> 
> TW: mentions of past suicidal thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANY THANKS to raving_liberal for the beta!

The next day, when Dave awoke, it seemed as if some unrealized tension had broken, and it felt not unlike a break between periods: the play had ended for now, but would soon start up again. Several _Big Things_ had happened. The tattered remains of his closet had been pulled down around his ears. He’d busted his hand on Cooper’s chin. He’d gotten into Rutgers and, judging by the paperwork they sent him, was entitled to a rather large chunk of tuition reimbursement from his Work Study program. He and Kurt were going to give it a go for the long haul.

He’d come so far. It was time to stop looking back, once and for all. Now that he felt like he actually had one, he was going to focus on the future.

During GSA earlier that week, Ms. P had asked if people could spread the word about the postsecret board. Apparently, the submissions had waned after the holiday. Dave grinned up at his ceiling. He knew just the secret.

***

Kurt picked Dave up just as Paul was leaving with his suitcase. Kurt raised an eyebrow at Dave after he had kissed him hello.

“Business trip,” Dave said. “He offered to cancel,” Dave held up his cast to imply why, “but I told him I’d be fine. Oh, and he brought me this last night.” Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny voice recorder. “Because it’s so hard for me to take notes, I can record the teacher’s lectures.”

“May I see?” Kurt asked. Dave handed over the device. “This is a very nice model. I have one just like it.” He handed it back. “It was very thoughtful.”

“Yeah,” Dave said. “I mean, Dad has his moments, you know?”

Kurt nodded. “How long will he be gone?”

“All weekend.” Dave said, and felt his heart thump nervously. Which was a little bit ridiculous. After all, both he and Kurt knew what an empty house meant, and it wasn’t like they’d hadn’t taken advantage of every opportunity to fool around that they could. Dave was actually looking forward to an empty weekend that he could fill with Kurt. It’s just that… Dave had plans. Plans he had wanted to put into motion for a while now. So much so, that he’d actually done _research_ that went beyond YouPorn.

He’d also spent the longest ten minutes of his life agonizing over the sexual health aisle at the drugstore before he had realized he couldn’t get what he wanted there, and had driven a nerve-wracking forty-five minutes to the sex shop by _Scandals_ that Steve had recommended.

“Really?” Kurt said, looking Dave over like he had plans of his own.

“Really,” Dave said, and pushed his nervousness aside. This was Kurt. He had no reason to feel anxious.

Later that night, with Kurt happily splayed in Dave’s lap, it was still hard for Dave to pull away from kissing Kurt.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” Kurt asked.

“Nothing,” Dave assured him. “I just…” Dave broke off, biting his lip. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Dave reached over to his bedside drawer and pulled out the paper bag from the shop. His hands shook, and he dumped the condoms and lube out onto the bed.

“Dave,” Kurt said, hushed. He stared at them with wide eyes.

Dave swallowed. “Please, I…” He pushed himself, knowing he could never have it if he couldn’t even _say_ it. “Fuck me?”

Kurt let out a huff, like he had been hit in the chest, the color rising high in his cheeks even as his eyes darkened. “You’re sure?”

“Very,” Dave said. “I love you. I trust you, and more…” Dave laughed a little breathlessly. “I want you to. I have for a while.” Dave paused. “But, I can wait—”

“No,” Kurt said. “No, this is happening. This is happening _now_.” Kurt pulled at Dave’s shirt, nearly frantic in his rush to get it off. Dave groaned; Kurt was as desperate as Dave felt—They were going to _do this_. Dave tried to unbutton Kurt’s shirt with clumsy fingers.

Kurt slid off of Dave’s lap to toe off his shoes and take off his pants. Dave hurried to join him, sliding naked up onto the bed to give Kurt room to crawl up after him. Kurt settled his body down over Dave’s, pressing them together, chest to thigh, and Dave threaded his fingers through Kurt’s hair as Kurt nipped and sucked at Dave’s neck.

Kurt reached out with a hand and grabbed the bottle of lube, flipping open the cap one handed, and pouring some out on his fingers. Dave heard the slick sound of Kurt fingers rubbing together, and he grunted when Kurt wrapped cool-wet fingers around Dave’s cock.

“Sorry,” Kurt whispered, sliding his fingers up Dave’s cock in apology, and Dave captured Kurt’s lower lip between his teeth for a moment. Kurt growled and reached for the lube again, shifting up and back between Dave’s spread legs.

The first time they’d played like this, Dave hadn’t been expecting it. It had been way back in Sebastian’s shower, when Kurt had pressed a knuckle against Dave’s asshole while going down on him, and Dave had surprised himself by how quickly it had made him come. They’d played with it now and then, using the slick from the drugstore, but never more than a few fingers and never quite with this intent. Dave felt spread out, on display for Kurt, and he _liked,_ it. It made it that much more _real_.

The lube was flat out cold this time, and Dave hissed, but it warmed up quickly as Kurt explored with his fingers, circling them around the ring of muscle, brushing them over the sensitive middle, but never quite pushing. Dave rocked his hips back, trying to get more friction, and Kurt laughed, reaching for more slick.

The first finger slipped in easily; they’d done that enough times that Dave’s body was ready for it. The second finger met more resistance, and Kurt slowed down to let Dave’s body adjust, but again, they’d been here before. Kurt pressed his fingers in and crooked them up together, and Dave cried out as they hit that spot, his cock jerking. Dave reached down, grasping himself tightly at the base.

“So soon,” Kurt teased. “You’re so fucking _tight_.” Kurt spread his fingers, and Dave felt the stretch, rocked back to feel more, and Kurt thrust his fingers to meet Dave, working them around until he could fit three fingers.

It was tight, the tightest they’d gone so far, but Kurt didn’t pull back; Dave didn’t want him to pull back. Kurt reached for the lube _again_ , squirting it directly onto the fingers still in Dave, and Dave twitched, but the cold felt almost soothing now, and soon Kurt’s hands were moving freely, and Dave was moving, too.

“On your knees,” Kurt said, voice deep in a way that made Dave shiver, and shaking with a restraint he was just barely holding on to. Dave rolled over, body reacting to the command in Kurt’s voice even as he felt clumsy when his limbs didn’t want to react the right way, but he made it, lifting up as Kurt shoved Dave’s pillow underneath him. It felt so good, pressed all around him, and Dave thrust into it. Kurt moaned behind him.

“Do you have any idea how you look?” Kurt whispered. “Big strong man, writhing for it, for me.” He breathed harshly. “Say it again. Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” Dave said, voice foreign in his own ears, rough and needy.

“Fuck, _begging,_ ” Kurt muttered, then stronger, “Say it.”

“Fuck me,” Dave said. “Please, Kurt—”

Kurt thrust in with all three fingers, and Dave rocked back with his hips. It wasn’t enough. “Please,” Dave said again.

Kurt pulled away and shifted behind him. Dave grabbed a condom off the bed and passed it back to Kurt, looking over his shoulder to watch Kurt roll it on with shaking fingers. Kurt grabbed the lube, nearly dropping it, and slicked up his cock. Kurt inched forward on his knees, “Ready?”

“Do it,” Dave said, and closed his eyes as Kurt pressed forward, testing the angle, the amount of pressure. Dave grunted when Kurt pushed the wrong way too hard—Kurt was bigger than three fingers—but then Kurt shifted again, pushed again, and this time Kurt slid in, Dave’s muscles spreading for him and closing tight around him, and Kurt swore, stopping with just the head inside.

Kurt lay his forehead on Dave’s back, just breathing for a moment until Dave started to move again, and Kurt pushed in, moving forward in tiny motions, half an inch by an inch, until he was pressed flush along Dave’s back.

“Oh my God,” Kurt whispered, sounding broken. “I’m inside you, Dave, Babe, _Love_ , I’m _inside you_.”

“Yes,” Dave said, words swirling around him, but not coming to him. He was here, they were finally here, together, and Dave felt something dark in the back of his mind that he hadn’t even noticed was there, couldn’t vocalize even if he had, a fear of this, of getting fucked like this, disappearing like so much smoke. “Please,” Dave begged.

Kurt thrust shallowly, then shifted again, and Dave tried to meet him, but then Kurt shifted once more and thrust in, his cock hitting Dave’s prostate, and Dave yelled, _“Fuck!”_ Kurt’s hands tightened around Dave’s hips, and Kurt _moved_ , all reserve gone, and Dave moved with him, finding their rhythm. Dave was loud, louder than he’d been yet, wordless moans and cries, and he’d be embarrassed but this was _Kurt_ drawing those sounds from him, so Dave let himself go, let it happen. His hips speed up as his pleasure grew, and when Kurt gasped out a “touch yourself,” Dave stroked twice and came, shooting over his hand and into the pillow, clenching down around Kurt and hearing Kurt swear as his rhythm faltered. Dave slumped down against the bed, moving his hips lazily as Kurt thrust his final time, coming with a drawn out groan.

Kurt collapsed over Dave’s back. “We are doing that again,” he said into Dave’s shoulder blade. Dave nodded. Carefully, Kurt held onto the edge of the condom as he pulled out, and Dave winced. He felt sore, used, but not painfully so, more like the way he hurt after a good workout. Still.

“Maybe not this again tonight,” he said as Kurt tied off the condom and threw it into Dave’s wastebasket. Kurt giggled.

***

Dave felt… different. More grounded. Secure. He felt—

Like he was being watched.

Adjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, Dave glanced around. The notoriety of his outing had faded quickly, and there was no one obviously staring at him. Still, Dave couldn’t shake the feeling…

Dave turned back and jumped back, nearly tripping over Rachel Berry.

“Fuck, _Berry_.”

“David,” Rachel said, very serious and not at all like she had nearly given Dave a heart attack. “While this stubbornness of yours could be considered an admirable trait, you will get further in life by learning to compromise.”

Dave closed his eyes. Berry had a habit of starting conversations in the middle, and the last thing Dave wanted to do was be caught in one right now. “What do you want?”

“Join glee.”

“No,” Dave said. Opening his eyes, he darted around her, continuing down the hallway. Berry followed, and Dave felt like he had a small yappy dog chasing his heels.

“I don’t understand why you’re still so resistant to this. You no longer have to worry about a conflict with hockey, there is no conflict with the musical, and if you’ve weathered coming out, surely you can weather being in glee.”

Dave stopped, felt Berry nearly run into his back. He turned to face her, looming. She didn’t even have the grace to look intimidated, staring back up at him with feet braced. “You’re right. You don’t understand,” he said, and walked into class.

The worst part was that she was right. Dave didn’t really have any reason to not join glee, other than a habit of saying no. And she was only half-right. Coming out—being forced out, really—was rough. Living through it _had_ filled Dave with the kind of confidence he hadn’t felt since the start of puberty. But Berry was greatly overestimating the glee club’s social standing.

Dave slumped into his seat. And not for nothing, part of the reason Kurt’s last relationship ended was because he was constantly fighting for the spotlight. Dave didn’t want to compete with Kurt, and while he was pretty sure Kurt’s own enthusiasm for Dave’s vocal range combined with Dave’s desire to remain far from the spotlight made it a moot point, he didn’t want to take that chance. Not without talking to Kurt first.

_Fuck,_ Dave thought. _I’m really considering this._ He hung his head. “What is my _life?_ ” he muttered.

***

There was generally 15 minutes between final bell and the start of rehearsal, but it usually stretched to 25-30 because actors, according to Suz, didn’t care about punctuality until Hell Week, when everyone was scrambling to get shit done.

That meant that Dave had enough time to do what he needed to do. After English, he kissed Kurt’s temple, told him he’d see him at rehearsal, and went to Ms. P’s office.

Ms P was sitting at her desk, filling out some form in her neat, tiny handwriting, but she told Dave to come in with a smile and put her pen aside.

“Hello, David,” she said. “How’s your hand?”

Dave shrugged. “Doesn’t really hurt unless I forget and try to move it,” he said. “I really only need the prescribed painkillers when I sleep, so I don’t roll onto it, or something.”

“That’s good,” Ms P said brightly. “How can I help you, David?”

“Well,” Dave said. “You know how you said we need more postsecret cards?” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a 4x6 card. “I know it’s supposed to be anonymous, but I wanted you to know that it came from me.” He held the card out. Ms P looked surprised, but she took the card and looked over it with raised eyebrows. 

It was a simple card. Looking closely, one could tell that the background was a stock photo of a partially coiled belt on a dark grey field. White writing filled the card, contrasting well with the darker colors underneath. It said, _“It’s been over a year since I thought about killing myself. If these past few months didn’t push me to do it, then nothing will. I have never been happier to be alive.”_

Ms P raised her hand to her mouth. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and Dave could see the overhead light shining off the polish. It was easier to look at than her expression.

“David…” she said, slowly.

“You know the kinds of issues I had last year,” Dave said, starting slowly. “This was something I didn’t tell anybody, though I wouldn’t be surprised if my therapist had his suspicions. He tried to get me to take anti-depressants more than once. But—they wouldn’t have fixed the problem. Learning to be myself fixed that problem.” Dave stopped, chuckled softly. “Last year, Kurt said I needed to get ‘educated’. And I did, and I really think that it—he—saved my life.” He swallowed. “And I wanted to say thank you; the GSA was a big part of my education, and if it wasn’t for you and Coach, it never would have happened.”

Dave stood. Before he could move, Ms P was up and around the desk, and Dave found himself with an arm full of diminutive guidance counselor.

“Thank _you,_ David,” Ms P said quietly. Dave hugged her back.

***

Ms P must have put the card up, because when Dave saw Kurt at lunch, Kurt launched himself at Dave. Dave rocked back at the impact, but caught and held Kurt as he clung tightly.

“Kurt?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Kurt said, his voice thick with emotions. “But if you ever get anywhere near that low, you talk to me, you understand?”

“I really don’t think it’s an issue anymore,” Dave said into Kurt’s hair. “But I promise.”

Kurt nodded and stepped back, though he didn’t let go of Dave’s hand. He pulled Dave over to their table and didn’t stop touching Dave in one way or another until the period ended.

***

There was really nothing drastically different about Dave’s week until Thursday, when Kurt had to stay late for glee. Dave assured Kurt once again that it was _fine_. He’d just sit in the corner and work on his homework or something until they could leave. Leaning in close, Dave admitted that he was hoping he’d get to see Kurt sing.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Dave said. “I could listen to you all day.”

Kurt grinned at him. “You have to say that,” he teased. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Dave shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Kurt flushed at that, pleased, and leaned into Dave for a long minute, before taking his hand and leading him into the choir room.

Berry was on him in an instant.

“David!” She squealed. Dave winced. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“Sorry, Berry,” Dave said. “I’m just watching while waiting for my ride, here.” Dave lifted his and Kurt’s hands, inwardly smirking at the way Berry pouted. Dave turned away; he really didn’t care about Berry’s petulance. He jerked his head in greeting to Puck and Finn, who returned the gesture—Puck with a serious “Yo, bro,” expression, and Finn with a grin. Dave saw Santana sitting on the far side with Brittany and repeated the gesture, just to watch her snort.

“I am not one of your meathead friends. Don’t jerk your head at me.”

“I don’t want to jerk my anything at you,” Dave shot back, taking a seat in the top, back corner. Kurt hugged Brittany in greeting and took the seat next to Dave.

“That’s a failing on your part, not mine,” Santana said. “Though I’m sure your boy-toy appreciated your restraint.” She looked over her shoulder and eyed Kurt. “Or maybe enjoys your restraints.”

“His boy-toy declines to comment,” Kurt said. “Though would like the record to show that he’d be willing to open negotiations.”

“Wanky,” Santana drawled, but Dave’s brain was stuck on the possibilities of “open negotiations.” Dave knew that most people would assume it would be Dave that would be “in control,” so to speak—he was larger and had the whole alpha male sports thing—but anybody who actually _knew_ Kurt would know how wrong that assumption would be. Which meant that Santana had that figured out.

Dave shifted in his seat, and turned to Kurt, curtailing the discussion of their sex life. “You don’t want to sit closer?” Dave asked, quietly.

Kurt shook his head. “With this many strong personalities in one room? No thank you. I usually hang out in the back until I feel the need to speak up.”

Brittany turned around to look at Dave. “Sometimes my Unicorn doesn’t speak for days.”

“Only when they’re being particularly petty,” Kurt said. “Sometimes I don’t have the energy to play supporting character in the Rachel Berry show.” He sighed. “So much drama in such tiny lives.”

“It’s better than reality TV,” Santana said, and then Schuester walked in with a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye and Dave was very disturbed.

“All right!” Schuester clapped his hands, and Dave pulled out his pre-calc textbook. Might as well get through some of his backlog of math homework. Schuester went on about some lesson of the week, and Dave tuned it out the best he could as he tried to focus on his problems.

Quinn got up and sang something sweetly, and Dave didn’t claim to know much about music, but if “sweetly” wasn’t enough to distract him from math, then there was something missing from her performance, some emotion. It didn’t surprise him, however. He understood not wanting to put your emotions on display.

She sat, and Dave tapped his thigh absently when the others clapped, mind working through some mental math.

“Okay, and Puck. You’re our last.”

Dave glanced up when Puck took the “stage” with his guitar, pulling over a stool. The piano player, who had played for Quinn, looked sourly at Puck, though Dave wasn’t sure if it was because Puck had his own accompaniment, or because he just hated the glee kids.

Puck didn’t say anything as he sat, and Dave turned back to his book when Puck began to pluck out the melody. Dave looked up when Puck started to sing.

_I listen to the wind_   
_To the wind of my soul_

Dave felt his eyebrows rise. He recognized the song, but didn’t figure it for one Puck would play.

_Where I'll end up well I think,_   
_Only God really knows_

Then again, Puck never really was one to hide his emotions, not if you knew how to look.

_I've sat upon the setting sun_   
_But never, never never never_   
_I never wanted water worse_   
_No, never, never, never_

Dave snuck a glance at Finn. Finn was staring, mouth parted and with his heart in his eyes, and if anybody cared to look, his affections—somehow bittersweet, as if he never thought his love would be returned—would be plain as day. Dave looked around, but nobody else was looking at Finn. Dave nudged Kurt while Puck played the music between verses, and nodded at Finn. Kurt looked over and startled, one hand coming up to rest over his heart

_I listen to my words but_   
_They fall far below_

Dave felt his heart go out to Puck. There was so much _yearning_ in the way Puck sang, and Dave could see it: the way no one really looked at Puck, the way no one really listened.

_I let my music take me where_   
_My heart wants to go_

He was sitting there, _telling everyone how to listen_ , and as he looked around he saw only mildly interested faces. They weren’t listening. Well, Finn was, but Dave wasn’t sure how much Finn was actually hearing, if the subtleties weren’t falling through the cracks. It made so much sense to Dave, just then. Both of them, the idiots, had fallen in love and neither believed the other felt the same way. Dave had to close his eyes; it was the only way to stop himself from standing and yelling at them both to just fucking admit it, already.

_I swam upon the devil's lake_

There was no doubting Puck had done wrong in his life, had done the wrong thing for the wrong reasons and the right reasons both. And Puck owned it: he wasn’t who he was.

_But never, never never never_   
_I'll never make the same mistake_   
_No, never, never, never_

Puck _learned_ from his past, and Dave knew exactly how hard that could be.

When Puck stood to just-this-side of cursory applause, Dave clapped the loudest. Puck looked startled when he realized the clapping came from Dave, and Dave shot him a quick smile, trying to tell him with his expression _I heard you_ and _Just tell him already_ and _I get you_. Puck nodded back, and Dave went back to his math. He realized his name was being called only after it was clear it had been called a few times.

Dave looked up and realized the entire club was focused on him. Dave shifted; Kurt was tense beside him and Dave had no idea what was going on, but that was enough to put him on edge.

“Um,” Dave said. “Yes?” Kurt stiffened further, and Dave had a feeling of sudden dread as to what he had just agreed to.

“Excellent!” Schuster clapped his hands. “Have you prepared anything?”

Dave blinked. “What?” His voice cracked and he swallowed.

“A song,” Schuster said. “For you audition.”

“Audition?” Dave repeated and slowly turned to look at Rachel, who was very studiously not looking at him. Dave narrowed his eyes. “For glee.”

Schuster nodded, looking earnest. “I’m glad to see you taking an interest in developing your talent.”

_Is he completely oblivious?_ Dave supposed he must be. Kurt put his hand on Dave’s thigh, and Dave looked at him.

“I’m not saying you have to,” Kurt said, “But if it’s something you want to do, even a little, I recommend it. We could use you, and not just for your voice.” Kurt lowered his voice, and added, barely moving his lips, “If anybody can help keep these egos in line, it’s you.”

Dave snorted. Santana turned around in her seat.

“Will you just get up and sing already? We all know you do, and we’re going to need your help to school Dalton.”

Dave sighed. “We’re not going to be able to talk to Sebastian anymore, are we?”

Kurt patted his arm. “Just don’t give away any state secrets.”

“Is there a theme?” Dave said.

“Meh,” Kurt said. Dave laughed. “Sing something you know you can.”

Dave nodded and stood, the rest of the club, including Schue, applauding. He made his way over to the piano and leaned in close to talk to the pianist.

“Um, hi,” Dave said. “I’m Dave. Do you know “Feelin’ Good”?

“Bublé or Simone?” The guy asked, eyebrows raised. Dave still got the impression that the guy wanted to kill him with his eyes, but less so than the others. He wondered how often he was expected to just know things.

“I love Simone’s, but I can sing Bublé’s,” Dave said with a grin, and the guy nodded.  
Dave turned around, looking everyone over. Rachel looked far too smug, and so did Santana for that matter, though for different reasons. Finn looked like it was his birthday or something, and Puck had a smirk that made Dave roll his eyes. Yeah, he was whipped. So what? Mercedes was leaning back, arms crossed, expression screaming “Oh, really?” and Dave could understand her doubt. The others looked surprised, but not in a bad way, and Dave let his gaze settle on Kurt, who was practically glowing.

Dave nodded at the piano, took a deep breath, and began:

_Birds flying high_   
_You know how I feel_

Dave had already had everyone’s attention, but he could feel the attention shift, focus.

_Sun in the sky_   
_You know how I feel_

Dave closed his eyes, leaning into the music.

_Breeze driftin' on by_   
_You know how I feel_

With his eyes closed, Dave let himself _go_ , putting everything from the last few days into his performance.

_It's a new dawn_

A new beginning. 

_It's a new day_

Things have changed, and will continue to change.

_It's a new life_   
_For me_

_For the first time, I am_ myself, Dave thought. 

_And I'm feeling good_

Dave grinned, could hear the horns playing and he sang with them.

_Fish in the sea_   
_You know how I feel_   
_River running free_   
_You know how I feel_   
_Blossom on a tree_   
_You know how I feel_   
_It's a new dawn_   
_It's a new day_   
_It's a new life_   
_For me_   
_And I'm feeling good_

Dave tipped his head back, belting out the lyric, carried away by the melody

_Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know_   
_Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean_   
_Sleep in peace when day is done_   
_That's what I mean_   
_And this old world is a new world_   
_And a bold world_   
_For me_

_For me_

Dave felt his feet move, soft-stepping to the beat, and he let them, spinning around to start the next verse.

_Stars when you shine_   
_You know how I feel_   
_Scent of the pine_   
_You know how I feel_   
_Oh freedom is mine_

MINE!

_And I know how I feel_   
_It's a new dawn_   
_It's a new day_   
_It's a new life_

It’s _my_ life!

_It's a new dawn_   
_It's a new day_   
_It's a new life_

And what a life!

_It's a new dawn_   
_It's a new day_   
_It's a new life_   
_It's a new life_   
_For me_

_For me_

Dave opened his eyes, saw Kurt watching him, and sang to him.

_I'm feeling good_   
_I feel so good_   
_I feel so good_

The last strains of the piano faded away and Kurt was the first one on his feet, clapping. Dave huffed out a little laugh and rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to go quite that far, but—he always had a tendency to get lost in that song. It had never been more relevant. Berry took a step forward, to hug him or something, but Kurt beat her there, throwing himself at Dave, trusting Dave to catch him, and kissing him soundly.

Schuster coughed over to their left, and Kurt pulled away, only to lean in close. “Tell me you have an empty house.”

“Till eight,” Dave whispered back.

“Good,” Kurt said. “I want to welcome our newest member with _style_.”

Dave grinned. _And I’m feeling good._


	7. Act Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the turn, events race to the climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter out. Between the holidays and sickness, this was just a very hard time to get anything written. But it's done! And here we are!
> 
> I'd like to say I'm back on schedule, but honestly, who knows. The next bit will be up as soon as I write it. 
> 
> Many thanks to raving_liberal for being such a beautiful human being.

There’s a saying about March—In like a lion, out like a lamb. It was a reference to the weather, the end of the winter winds and the rebirth of spring. As a boy, Dave always believed that the reverse could also be true, especially when a late-March blizzard would blow through. By the time he had reached high school, Dave realized one couldn’t place too much stock in old wives’ tales. Still, he should have had a weather eye out when March began quietly.

Well, as quiet as it ever got in the choir room.

Schue had yet to arrive, and Berry was talking loudly about something—Dave figured that if it were something important, Kurt would fill him in later. Dave had his Spanish textbook open, half-heartedly studying his vocabulary. Senor Schue had such low expectations of his students, probably in direct correlation to his inability to actually teach Spanish, that Dave probably didn’t _have_ to study, but since more colleges had a language requirement, he figured it couldn’t hurt. Plus, it had the added benefit of keeping him seemingly busy so Berry wouldn’t talk to him. Not that it always worked, but…

Kurt snorted quietly and leaned over to rest his head on Dave’s shoulder, looking at Dave’s textbook. “Why do you even bother?” Kurt murmured into Dave’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, I wonder,” Dave muttered and winked at Kurt. Kurt smiled and closed his eyes, staying cuddled close. Dave let himself watch for a long moment, feeling a warm contentment spread through him.

Dave’s wrist would be out of commission for at least another four weeks, probably five. He missed hockey with an ache, though he missed his teammates less. Of all of them, Meyers was the only one who still talked to him, greeting him in the halls like nothing had happened. Dave had noticed a few of the others watching him from time to time, like they wanted to say hello but were too afraid. It hurt, but Dave was sure that it hurt them more. _They_ were still bound by fear.

Rehearsals for the musical were still going well. The puppet for Audrey II had been finished while Dave was out of commission and looked nearly professional. Finn had been drafted to operate the actual puppet, mostly because of his height. Dave thought that was just fine with him; even before his injury it would be nearly impossible to move that thing and sing at the same time. They were on schedule for their opening night, the week after spring break.

Dave knew he would be going to Rutgers in the fall, close enough to Kurt to make it work. He planned on going out for their hockey team, and with the resources available to him at the university, he could do pretty much whatever he wanted. And he would be _out of Lima_.

So really, the only thing left was—

“Regionals!” Schue called out as he jogged into the choir room, stopping Berry short. Dave heard Kurt sigh, and Kurt pulled himself upright. Kurt seemed—unenthused—and Dave looked at him, questioning. Maybe it had something to do with what Berry was going on about.

Berry sat, and Schue took her place at the front of the room, writing “Regionals” on the whiteboard and clapping his hands as he faced the risers. 

"Regionals are a little over a month away, so we need to get ready," Schue said. Dave raised his eyebrow. He knew Sebastian and the Warblers had been practicing since the week after sectionals. He had figured the New Directions had been doing the same, but just hadn't yet while Dave had been there. His estimation of their raw talent went up. If they got as far as they had with such little prep...

Berry raised her hand, and Dave had to bite his tongue against the sarcastic comment that sprung to his mouth. Of course she raised her hand like that. She was probably also the student that reminded the teacher when they "forgot to assign homework." 

"Mr. Schuester, being that this competition is not only the next step in our journey to Nationals, but is also a rematch of sorts with our show choir rivals, the selection of a setlist is of the utmost importance. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of creating several possible setlists from a variety of vocal heavy-hitters, starting with the more emotionally charged selections from Andrew Lloyd Webber—" 

"Mr. Schue, if I may," Kurt said, cutting Berry off and raising his hand. "If we are to beat the Warblers, we need to show more than an appreciation for the Broadway classics. While they would showcase our talents well, they'll also bore the judges to death. _Especially_ when compared to the Warbler's penchant for pop favorites. May I suggest an alternative of contemporary songs that demonstrate not just our talent, but our fighting spirit? Such as _Stronger_ and Mama Monster's _Edge of Glory_? 

Dave heard some grumbling from Puck about having to perform Gaga _again_ and figured it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have something that would appeal to Puck and the other guys as well. Maybe a rock ballad? Classic rock? He knew Puck liked performing as Kiss. Maybe Queen? 

Down front, Berry looked put out at having her ideas shot down, especially since Schue seemed to really like Kurt's idea, but there was still a glint in her eye that made Dave _very_ uncomfortable. 

"Great idea!" Schue said, and turned to write "fighting spirit" on the board. Dave raised an eyebrow at Kurt. Kurt shrugged. 

"You have to beat Rachel in her own language, or she won’t admit defeat," he said quietly.

Dave snorted softly and turned back to see Schue had written “Edge of Glory” on the board. Looking around, Dave saw Quinn looking appraisingly at Kurt. Dave thought it was odd, until Santana leaned back to mutter, “Looks like Schue finally listened to you, Lady Lips.”

Dave looked at Kurt. “He doesn’t listen?”

Kurt shrugged again. “More like he only listens when I don’t need him to.” Sure enough, Schue was off again, telling them that their assignment for this week was to find the next two songs for the set list.

“Now.” Schue clapped his hands again, and Dave wondered if maybe Schue had missed his calling of teaching elementary school. No wonder he and Ms. P work so well. Berry had her hand in the air, straining like she was going to fly out of her seat, and oh man, Schue called for open sing, didn’t he?

Dave sighed and slumped back into his seat, lifting his arm to wrap around Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt leaned against him, arm braced on Dave’s thigh, fingertips just barely brushing the inside of Dave’s knee. Dave relaxed back into the touch. His dad had another late night tonight, and Dave let his mind drift.

***

Kurt lay on top of him, kissing without hurry. His skin was flushed and his eyes sparkled in the low light. They were naked still, but wouldn’t be for long as they calmed and began to once again feel the chill in the air.

The front door slammed open and Dave sat up quickly, bracing Kurt as they shifted.

“What—?” Kurt started, but stopped when they heard voices. Paul, loud and angry but not articulate, and a woman, shrill and familiar.

“Mom,” Dave said. Kurt squeezed Dave’s hand in his, and Dave snapped his head to Kurt. “Clothes,” Dave said. Kurt blinked at him for a moment. “ _Clothes_ ,” Dave said again, and Kurt nodded, scrambling for his pants and briefs.

Dave grabbed his jeans, leaving his boxers behind—they were dirty anyway, there was no point—and pulled his Messier jersey on over his head.

The voices were louder now, and Dave hesitated. He didn’t want Kurt to see, didn’t want to expose Kurt to the shit-storm downstairs.

Why was she back? Dave was just starting to get used to missing her. Why _now?_

The yelling traveled up the stairs, and Dave felt Kurt press up against his back, whether in support or fear, Dave wasn’t sure. Dull pain started to bloom in Dave’s forearms, and when he looked down, his fists were clenched white tight. For the life of him, Dave couldn’t unclench his fists. His mother’s voice reached the top of the stairs and they could finally make out the words.

“You’re pathetic, Paul,” Maria snapped. “I don’t know why I ever thought differently. Two decades of my life _wasted!_ ”

“Maria,” Paul said, pleading, but Dave didn’t hear anything after that. He was moving, he had to have moved because one minute he was in his room, the next he was bursting into the hallway, pushing past a surprised Paul and getting into Maria’s space, looming over her.

“Wasted?” Dave asked, bringing his face close. She smelled like _Mom_ and that just made everything worse. “ _Wasted?_ Maria crossed her arms over her chest, staring up and refusing to back down. “The only thing _wasted_ is your breath. Nobody cares what you think. Dad’s not pathetic, _you_ are, for thinking you could come back here and act like we’re the ones who did _you_ wrong. _We_ didn’t walk out on you. _You_ left.” Dave stepped back. “And I think it’s be a good idea for you to leave again. And don’t come back this time.”

Maria’s face was pale, but she hadn’t moved, not even flinching as she caught the brunt of Dave’s anger. It wasn’t until he stepped back that she moved, lowering her eyes until they caught on something behind David.

“So,” she said. “This is the little faggot that—” She got no further than that, as Dave reached out and shoved her back with both hands.

“Shut up, shut _up_ ” Dave snapped. “You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t even get to think about him!”

Kurt grabbed Dave’s arm, pulling him back, and Dave let him, stumbling a little when he wouldn’t look away from Maria. Maria’s face was screwed up, spitting poison at him, but Dave tuned her out, reaching up a hand to cover Kurt’s and looking down, looking away as Paul led Maria back down the stairs and out of the house, telling her he’d send the rest of her things on to her brother’s as soon as he could.

Dave slumped once the front door closed, the anger leaving him in a rush. Kurt ran a hand through Dave’s hair, pressing his lips to Dave’s forehead and speaking “it’s okay, it’s alright” into his skin like a mantra, and Dave realized he was speaking, apologizing over and over again.

Dave swallowed, taking the words back, taking them into him as he forced himself to breathe. Kurt pulled back, and Dave met Kurt’s eyes. “I _am_ sorry, Kurt. She was going to—I couldn’t let her hurt you.”

“She can’t hurt me,” Kurt said, quietly. “I’d have to care what she thought before she hurt me.” Kurt smoothed Dave’s hair back again. “You care, though. She can hurt you.”

“Not anymore,” Dave said, quietly. “I’m done. I’m done with her. I can’t—I can’t let her hate ruin my life.”

“Good,” Kurt said. “You deserve so much better than her.”

Dave laughed bitterly. “I dunno,” he said. “Sometimes, I think she’s just what I deserve.”

“David,” Kurt said, but Dave shook his head.

“Not often,” Dave said. He took Kurt’s hands in his own. “But you know as well as I do that I’ve done some bad shit in my life. Sometimes, I feel like she’s my mom to show me what I’d be like if I let myself go, you know?”

“You’re better than she is,” Kurt said, quietly sure.

Dave just smiled, pulled Kurt in for a quick, comforting kiss. “You want to stay for dinner?” he asked.

“Let’s check on your Dad, okay?” Kurt said, and Dave nodded. He knew what that meant. Kurt wanted to stay, but was willing to leave if the Karofsky men needed time together.

Downstairs, Paul was in the kitchen, sitting at the table and staring at a beer. He looked up when Dave entered and offered a weak smile. Paul looked pale, like he was just over a prolonged sickness.

“She surprised me,” Paul said. “I had no idea…” Paul trailed off when he saw Kurt. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Kurt.”

Kurt shrugged, biting his lip and not really answering. His hand tightened in Dave’s, however. Paul nodded anyway, like he’d gotten an answer. “I think this calls for comfort food. Pizza.” Paul stood. “I’ll call it in. You boys want to find something on television? We’ll watch a movie.”

“Sure,” Dave said, and when Kurt gestured that he’d go on ahead, Dave kissed Kurt’s forehead and watched him enter the TV room before he walked up to Paul and pulled him into a bear-hug.

Paul returned the hug with equal force, and when the pizza came, the beer stayed on the table.

***

Study night at the Lima Bean was harder to keep after break since Dave was so busy after school. Now that he was officially a member of New Directions—and really, what was with that name? Schue had said something about it coming to him in a dream. Dave wondered with a sort of sick fascination just what kind of dreams that man was having—Dave felt a little odd about studying with the captain of their main musical rivals.

Musical rivals. Dave snorted to himself. Listen to him. It was _competitive singing_. The only thing more ridiculous was competitive beard growing.

Except…

Except that Dave had felt the thrill of performing, had admitted to himself how much he craved that thrill, and while he still thought competition—the _depth_ of competition—was strange, he wasn’t going to knock it. He just wasn’t going to get caught up in it the way Berry and Kurt and Sebastian were.

Which was no excuse for making a list of possible song choices instead of listening to the history lecture. Writing with his right hand was still a chore, and it took him _way_ too long to make his letters legible, but it gave him something to do while his teacher droned on. Az was nearly dozing off next to him, and Dave kicked at Az’s ankle to wake him up. Az woke with a snort, blinking awake. Luckily, their teacher didn’t notice.

Az looked at Dave. _Da fuq, bro?_

Dave rolled his eyes. _You fell asleep, numb-nuts._

Az shrugged. _So?_

Dave raised his eyebrows. _So how am I going to use your notes if you’re not taking any?_

Az rolled his eyes. _Whatever, man. This shit is BO-RING._

Dave shook his head and went back to his list. Fighting Spirit. Puck in mind, he had written down “The Show Must Go On.” If anyone else in glee could understand _“I take it with a grin/Never giving in/On with the show”_ it was Puck. Then, for Finn, “You’re The Voice.” Dave couldn’t sing the song without thinking of the behind the scenes video diaries from the BBC Merlin show and starting to laugh, but he thought Finn would appreciate the rock ballad. And, to be honest, _“We’re not going to sit in silence/We’re not going to live with fear”_ really appealed to him.

What other songs did he know? Nina’s “Ain’t Got No” came to mind, but they’d probably want to do the _Hair_ version, and it was bad enough that he was doing _one_ musical.

There was “The Impression That I Get” by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and “Keasby Nights” by Streetlight Manifesto, but he didn’t think ska would go over well with show choir. Too many instruments, not enough vocal parts.

“Tubthumping,” “Fall Back Down,” and “So What” were also rejected, and by that point the class was over.

Dave shoved the paper into his binder and stood. This was harder than he thought.

***

Rehearsal had hit a plateau. The sets were built, and the props were mostly in place. Andy and Suz had moved on to costuming, and spent most of their time in the Home Ec room, stitching and tailoring. Dave itched to help them, that was something he could _do_ , but his hand made that impossible, so he spent his rehearsals sitting with Finn and the Audrey puppet, waiting for his turn.

It was excruciating. They were supposed to be off-book two weeks ago, but they still had to stop and start as some of the underclassmen (and seniors, let's be honest) forgot their lines. Or their blocking. Artie was starting to look like rolling off the end of a pier was a good idea.

So Dave sat with Finn, talking when they could and bonding in silence when they couldn't. At the moment, Artie was losing his top at the Skid Row dancers because half of them still turned left when they should turn right. Dave looked over at Finn. Finn had pulled the sleeve of his flannel down over his hand and was practicing with his "hand Audrey".

"I looked up puppetry on Wikipedia the other day, and I found this thing called," Finn looked around, "puppetry of the penis. Have you heard of this?"

"Um..." Dave said. _Puppetry of the_ what?

"I know, right? From what I can tell, it's these two Australian guys. They've got this show where they turn their dicks into puppets."

Dave blinked. The image forming in his head was not a good one. "Like, put their hands in..." Dave trailed off.

Finn frowned, then his eyes grew wide and scared, and he crossed his legs. "No! Oh, God, why would you say that?! I can't un-see that now!" He shuddered. "No, it's more like balloon animals but without so much twisting.

"And—they have a show? People pay to watch this?"

Finn shrugged. "Apparently. It's been around for a while, anyway."

"Huh." Dave said, and let it sink in. He turned and smirked at Finn. "How long until you tried?"

"Dude, there were plans to make a hamburger. I pulled my pants down _right there_."

Dave laughed, and when Finn said, "I bet Puck would be really good at it," Dave could only laugh harder, waving Finn off when he asked why that was so funny.

Kurt made his way over. “You okay, Babe?”

Dave nodded, reining in his laughter. It was easier once he saw the look on Finn’s face, three-fourths “Aww!” and one-fourth longing. Dave felt his cheeks heat, and coughed.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes, Finn?”

“You two are adorable,” Finn said. He grinned. “Hey Dave, you got a nickname for him?”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said, hanging his head.

“Why?” Dave asked, raising his eyebrow.

Finn shrugged. “He knows my browser history. I need something to give me some ground back.”

Dave laughed. “Sorry, Finn. I don’t think ‘Sweetheart’ is gonna give you the ammo.” Kurt flicked Dave lightly on his shoulder, and Dave wrapped his arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling him in close.

“No,” Finn said, slumping. “That’s true.”

Artie clapped his hands, and Kurt rolled his eyes, pulling away. “Master beckons,” Kurt muttered, and kissed Dave’s temple before walking back to work.

Finn was still slumped and was watching the dancers. Or, rather, watching _a_ dancer.

“He likes you, too,” Dave said, quietly. Finn went pale and very still. “Nobody else has noticed, but when he’s not watching, you look at him like he’s everything to you.” Finn still didn’t move. Dave sighed. “For what it’s worth, he looks at you the same way.”

“It’s not like that,” Finn said, just as quiet. “It’s… it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Dave said, shrugging. “I just know what it’s like. And I won’t tell.”

After a long moment, Finn nodded. Then they were up and singing “Suppertime,” and by the time they broke for the evening, it was like their conversation never happened.

But Dave saw the way Finn lit up when Puck walked over to him, and he knew Finn was thinking about it.

***

Friday’s glee would be the day they decided the setlist, and Dave was surprised to find himself nervous as he and Kurt entered the choir room. He knew Kurt’s list was almost a full page long, and Dave hadn’t been able to decide on any other songs than the two he already had. Schue was waiting for them and took their lists as they walked in. Dave and Kurt took their usual seats behind Santana and Brittany, and waited for everyone else to arrive.

Once everyone had handed in their lists, Schue took them to the board and started writing song titles. He started with the shorter lists and worked his way through, only writing each song once. They ended up with a list of fifteen titles. A good third of them were Broadway tunes and were discounted off the bat. “We decided no Broadway, Rachel,” Schue reminded. Berry slumped.

Ten songs remained. Thus the voting began. Each student could raise their hand twice, one for each of the two songs they’d want to perform. Any song with one vote got cut. Round one knocked it down to six. Then four. Then two.

Dave stared at the board, but didn’t believe it. The two songs they picked were “The Show Must Go On” and “You’re The Voice.” They picked _his two songs_.

_Holy Shit._

“Alright!” Schue said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’ll get these scored up properly over the weekend, and get you your music Monday. But, until then, let’s see if we can do a run through. Brad?” The piano player—and woah, when did he show up? Dave was certain he wasn’t there before—just rolled his eyes and started to play the intro to “The Show Must Go On.” Dave looked around him. Just like that? No music? No lyrics? Yeah, he knew the songs, but he hadn’t expected everybody…okay. Quinn and Mercedes were looking up lyrics on their phones. Thank God. The world hadn’t gone crazy.

But then everyone started to sing, and there was that energy again, like Dave had felt on the football field, and he would swear he could hear violins in the background, thumping pizzicato. Shrugging, Dave opened his mouth to sing along, swept up in the power of the lyrics and the melody.

_I face it with a grin_  
I’m never giving in!  
On with the show! 

Coming back to earth was far too much like crashing for Dave, and he started when Schue started to clap.

“Excellent work everybody! That was magic!”

_You said, it,_ Dave thought.

“And the next,” Schue said, nodding at Brad. If Dave didn’t know better, he’d think Brad flipped Schue off before he started to play “You’re The Voice,” in all its eighties power ballad glory. This time, Dave starting singing right from the beginning, cutting loose at the chorus.

_You’re the voice try to understand it_  
Make a noise try to make it clear  
Whoa  
We’re not going to sit in silence  
We’re not going to live with fear!  
Whoa 

Dave could even hear the _bagpipes_ in the solo. Seriously, there was something weird about the choir room.

Then Schue was applauding. “Great job! Really great job! This is going to win us Regionals for sure!”

If they had that same weird magic on the stage, then Dave had to agree.

Kurt must have noticed Dave’s confusion, because he nudged Dave gently, and while Schue was talking out loud about the percentage of solo parts to group parts, leaned over to whisper.

“You okay?”

Dave hesitated for a moment. “Does it always do that?” Dave asked.

“Do what?” Kurt asked, shaking his head.

“Turn into some big musical number, like in a show?”

Kurt just shrugged.

“Right,” Dave said to himself. Glee was _weird_.

***

St Patrick’s Day was on a Saturday this year, and the buzz began days before. Everywhere Dave turned, people were talking about parties—whose parents would be out of town, who could get what and for what price. Even the glee kids were caught up in it. This year, Santana’s parents would be out of town, and she had full access to their liquor cabinet, or so she said when she punched Dave in the shoulder and told him that his ass better show up to her house on Saturday.

“Won’t they notice if we drink it all?” Dave asked, rubbing his shoulder. He thought he saw one of the douchebags on the basketball team hide a laugh from across the room. Whatever. Most guys forgot how strong cheerleaders had to be, especially if they weren’t small enough to be the flyers. Santana had probably just given him a bruise that would last for a week. Dammit.

Santana snorted. “You put too much faith in my parents and too little in the size of their collection. I could have the entire team over, send half of them to the hospital with alcohol poisoning, and still had booze left over. Nah. We leave the top shelf stuff alone, they won’t say anything.” She paused. “I’m pretty sure they leave it for me on purpose, not that they’ve ever said. I think they’re just happy that I’m a ‘normal’ teenager.”

And what could Dave say to that? _Sure, I’ll help you drink your parent’s delusion-booze._

“Santana, you’re as normal as I am,” he said. She scoffed and turned away. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he added.

“Good,” she said, after a long pause. “But no funny business if it’s not caught on camera.” She turned back. “I plan to make good money on a sex tape, and I’ll be damned if it’s my own.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Even Az had caught the fever. His parties were stuff of legend, and anybody who was anybody was expected to be there. In years past, Dave had helped him run things, the two of them the lords of the evening. But this year, even though the student body had agreed the hockey team had gone too far, Dave way far from being an “anybody” anymore. Az got halfway through his invitation to Dave before he stopped, trailing off with a groan.

Dave smacked his hand on Az’s shoulder, open palm for the loudest possible noise. “I knew you’d remember eventually,” he said. Dave was still Az’s friend. It was well within his rights to attend Az’s party. It might even help bolster his social standing a little. Dave wanted to spend the evening with Kurt, and wanted to be there for Santana, and neither of them would be at Az’s party.

Still, Dave could let Az dangle for a little while longer, letting Az apologize without saying anything until he started to twitch.

“It’s okay, man,” Dave said. “I’m going to Santana’s anyway.”

Az froze. “You fucker. You were just gonna let me twist, weren’t you?”

Dave shrugged. “Not for long.”

Az’s wounded expression was really over the top. “And you made plans without me? I’m hurt, man.”

“Z…” Dave said, and trailed off. Az grinned.

“Nah, now I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry man. But I’m glad you won’t be sitting home alone like the sad fuck we all really know you are.”

“I’m touched,” Dave deadpanned.

Az nodded. “In the head,” he agreed. Dave thought the slap he gave to the back of Az’s head was perfectly justified, even if Az disagreed.

***

Paul, apparently, was going to be spending the evening with the Hudson-Hummels.

“I ran into Carole at lunch today, and she invited me,” Paul said, chopping vegetables. He was still in his work clothes, but had rolled the sleeves up. There was a pint glass on the table, but Dave didn’t have to get too close to see it was root beer and not doctored. “I know you have plans, and I’ll be damned if my son has a more active social life than his old man.”

Dave snorted. “It’s a little late for that, Dad,” he said.

“That wounds me, it really does,” Paul said. “But I’ll forgive you. I know I haven’t been very social lately, but your mother’s visit the other day put a few things into perspective.” 

“Why was she even here,” Dave asked. He felt more calm than he thought he would, asking the questions, like maybe he really had begun to heal.

Paul sighed. “Who knows. Her things? To pick on me? To try and take control again? To cause trouble if she couldn’t?” He shook his head. “I don’t like that she can come back whenever she wants to upset us like that. I’m having the locks changed tomorrow, so don’t try to get in until I see you.” 

Dave nodded, letting that sink in, then deliberately moved past. “So, you’re going out Saturday?” 

“I like Burt and Carole, and I’ve no reason not to spend time with them,” Paul said. Meaning, _I know what I’ve been doing, and being social will keep me from spending the night drinking alone._ “Carole even said she’ll cook her special corned beef and cabbage.” Which meant Paul was about to ask Dave if he could make a dessert.

Dave rolled his eyes. “Cake or pie?”

“Oh, pie, please,” Paul said, and Dave went to check the cupboard. He’d need to pick up something for filling, but didn’t really mind. When he looked and saw that the case of beer on the floor was gone and there were no new bottles in the recycling. Looks like Paul meant what he said about perspective. 

***

Kurt picked Dave up on the way to Santana’s. Finn and Puck were already in the backseat, and Finn looked away, shifting, when Dave met his eyes. Dave just shook his head, and kissed Kurt hello. They were the last ones to the party.

Tina met them at the door, already listing to the side, and led them down into the basement. It was bigger than Dave had expected, easily the full size of the foundation, though only half had been finished into a bar/lounge area, complete with couches, entertainment unit, and wet bar. Next to the bar was a doorway that led further into the basement for storage, laundry, and a half-bath.

Santana was behind the bar mixing drinks, and Brittany was sitting on it next to her, swaying to the music. Quinn and Mercedes were giggling over something, sitting on a futon against the long wall. Chang and Evans were dancing the robot in the middle of the room, shirtless. Tina ran to join the girls on the futon, staring at the dancing boys, and that answered Dave’s question as to what they were giggling about. Artie was manning the stereo, and Berry was hovering over his shoulder, like she could dictate the music to the DJ.

“Yeah,” Puck said, shouldering past to get a drink from Santana, pulling his shirt off as he walked to the bar. He threw back the shot she passed him and grabbed a beer, joining Chang and Evans on the “dance floor.”

“Well,” Kurt murmured. “It certainly looks like a party.”

“Frankenteen!” Santana called. “Get your ass over here. You’re not nearly drunk enough.”

“I’ll say,” Finn said, and led the way over to the bar. Santana poured him a double shot of flavored rum—Dave could smell the sugar and the chemical burn of the alcohol even if he couldn’t make out the flavor—and Finn knocked it back and asked for another. Santana raised an eyebrow, but poured again. Pineapple rum. When Finn asked for yet another, she mixed him a rum and coke, and shooed him away. Finn took two steps and stood watching the dancers for a minute, lost.

Dave watched Finn until Santana put a drink in his hands. He took and sip and coughed. It was sweet, almost too sweet, and pure alcohol. “What did you do?” he asked.

“A little of everything,” Santana said, gesturing to the lineup of flavored liquor. He saw coconut and banana rums. There was strawberry and peach and creamsicle vodka. He saw blackberry brandy and five different kinds of schnapps. “I figured that drink was gay and manly enough for you, but sorry. I don’t have any umbrellas.”

“Damn,” Kurt said, deadpan. “Break my heart, Satan.”

“And I would give you a virgin daiquiri,” Santana said, passing over what looked more like a cosmo. “But we both know that isn’t true anymore.”

Kurt just smiled and asked, “Is there any reason why your basement resembles a low-budget community theatre adaptation of _Queer as Folk_?”

Santana leaned forward on the bar. “Mike’s dancing for Tina. I’m going to have to watch them later, make sure they don’t do anything on my bed. Sam’s drunk enough to not realize what he’s doing and Puck’s an attention whore.” She paused, looked them both over, and muttered, “With one person in particular in mind.”

Dave let himself be surprised for only a moment, before shaking his head at himself. This was Santana. Of course she had figured it out. “They both think the other’s only in it for convenience,” Dave said.

Kurt sighed, exasperated, and tossed back the rest of his cosmo, holding the glass out to an amused Santana. “They’re idiots, the both of them.”

Dave shrugged. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one who knows.”

Finn seemed to snap out of his trance, joining Artie and Berry over by the stereo. The conversation was brief but Finn managed to pry Berry away. She was flushed bright red, and obviously more drunk than Dave had realized.

“Fucking lightweight,” Santana muttered.

“Maybe she’ll pass out early,” Kurt muttered back. “Get her another drink.”

Santana reached for another glass, but when Finn brought Berry up to the bar, it was filled with water. Dave sipped to cover his smile.

“You know what this party needs?” Berry asked, just a shade away from slurring. “Karaoke.”

“No!” Santana, Finn, and Kurt all snapped.

“No games,” Kurt said firmly. Berry’s face fell, and she slumped back into Finn, but she was soon distracted by trying to maneuver the straw into her mouth using only her tongue.

The song shifted to some sultry pop song Dave thought he’d heard, but he couldn’t be quite sure. They all sounded the same to him Either way, Brittany perked up, and pulled Santana out from behind the bar to dance with her. Mike had grabbed Tina, and Sam and Mercedes were cuddled up, foreheads pressed together. Puck was dancing with himself, and Finn started walking Berry over to Quinn.

“Hey,” Kurt said, curling into Dave’s side. “Dance with me?”

And how could Dave say no to that?

Dave took a last sip of his drink and put it on the bar. It was only half finished, but he was already starting to feel loose. It had been a long time since his last drink and Santana mixed them strong. Gathering Kurt in close, they moved together to the music. Dave gripped Kurt’s hips to feel them wiggle, and Kurt kept his wrists pressed to Dave’s collarbones, letting his fingertips dance at the back of Dave’s neck. Dave shivered, pulling Kurt in closer, pressing his leg between Kurt’s as they moved. Kurt lowered his head, resting his temple against Dave’s so his breath puffed warm against Dave’s ear. Dave shivered, felt himself stir, and Kurt grinned into Dave’s skin.

“Give it half an hour,” Kurt said. “By then they’ll be too drunk to either notice or care if we slipped away.”

Dave tightened his hands on Kurt’s hips and nodded his head.

The next thirty minutes were torture. Kurt was so close, but Dave couldn’t touch him the way he wanted, couldn’t move the way he wanted, and judging by the high flush in Kurt’s cheeks, he felt the same way.

Dave couldn’t tell if they’d actually hit the thirty minute mark, but one minute he was listening to Berry drunkenly argue that they _needed_ to play Truth or Dare, and the next Kurt was leading him deeper into the basement.

“I’ve noticed, you know,” Kurt said, tugging Dave’s hand until he’s pressing Kurt up against the washing machine. “At first, I thought it was just me, so I started to test.” Kurt places Dave’s hands under the hem of his shirt, and Dave took the hint, sliding his hands up Kurt’s chest, feeling warm skin over lean muscle and leaned in, licking at Kurt’s adam’s apple as it moved.

“ _Oh!_ I started with words,” Kurt said, reaching around to get his hands Dave’s back, to rake his nails over the skin. “But it wasn’t until the locker room that I knew.”

Kurt reached up a hand and wove his fingers into Dave’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dave chased the taste of cranberry and grenadine, and Kurt moaned, loud in the relative quiet. Dave’s breath caught and Kurt pulled away to whisper.

“Yes, exactly. Everybody is in the room next to us. There’s no door. The only thing separating us is line of sight and the volume of the music. Someone could walk in at any time,” Dave’s heart raced, and Kurt gripped him tighter. “And I’m going to suck you off. Then, if nobody’s come through, you’re going to suck me. And if they do,” Kurt squeezed tight enough to hurt. “Then they can watch.”

Dave groaned, biting his lip at the last second. Kurt grinned up at him and sank to his knees. Dave watched, not daring to open his jaw, to release his lip even when he swore he could taste blood. He didn’t want to make a sound—except in all the ways that he really, really did.

Because Kurt was right. He _had_ caught the signs. But, while Dave knew the _threat_ of being seen turned his crank harder and faster than anything he’d yet discovered, he really didn’t know if _actually_ being seen would be the same.

It was so very hard to keep quiet, with Kurt on his knees like that, his mouth hot and wet and tight and there was a party _right there_. Anybody could walk in and _see —._

And that was it; Dave came with a surprised grunt, and Kurt twitched under Dave’s hand, but didn’t miss a beat, only pulling off once Dave was spent, standing to pull Dave in, leaning back against the washer once again to help take Dave’s weight. 

“Well,” Kurt said after a long, breathless moment. 

“Don’t even,” Dave muttered. “Let me hammer one of your kinks like that, see if you don’t go off like a rocket.” 

In the other room, the song changed to LMFAO’s thumping “Sexy and I Know It” and Dave snickered because he couldn’t find a _less_ sexy song, but he pulled back to look at Kurt, who was still flushed and grinning, and had to kiss him even as he grabbed Kurt by the waist and lifted him up onto the washer, trying to balance Kurt on one hand when Dave’s wrist protested. Kurt made a surprised noise into Dave’s mouth, clinging onto Dave so he wouldn’t fall. If the thrill of risk was Dave’s little secret, than Dave displaying just how strong he was was Kurt’s. 

Dave cupped the back of Kurt’s head, kissing him as Kurt worked open the complicated fastenings of his pants, pushing them down to his ankles. Dave spread Kurt’s knees as wide as they would go, pulling Kurt closer to the edge of the machine, and went down, loving the way Kurt curled around his head. It was hard to move in the position they were in, with Kurt almost on top of him, but Dave didn’t care. He took Kurt in as far as he could, using his tongue to tease, making Kurt gasp quietly into Dave’s hair, but, it wasn’t until Dave wormed a hand in to press a knuckle at the spot behind Kurt’s balls that Kurt came with a strangled gasp that sprang into the silence between songs. 

They froze, and when they heard Berry ask “What was that?” Kurt slid off the washer, pulling his pants up and loosely fastening the button before Dave stepped in to kiss him again, covering any lingering evidence with his body. 

Puck stuck his head around the corner and smirked. “Just a couple of lovebirds,” he called back. 

“Tell Cubby to get his ass back here, or they’re gonna give everyone a free show!” 

Puck grinned at them. “You heard the lady,” and ducked back inside. 

Dave pulled away and Kurt finished straightening his clothes as Dave buttoned his pants. Dave raised an eyebrow at him. “You know,” he said. “We still have that chance to get them to watch.” 

Kurt snorted and smoothed the last hair into place. “Don’t tempt me,” he said and pulled Dave back to the party. 


	8. Reprise pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring Break and Regionals are right around the corner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to length, this chapter will be split into two parts. Part two will be up in the next few days. 
> 
> Many thanks to raving_liberal for being such a kick-ass beta and a better conscience than Jiminy Cricket. :)
> 
> AND ALSO FOR POINTING OUT THAT I ADDED THIS TO THE HOLIDAYS AND NOT TO THE MUSICAL. last time I'm posting that tired...

  


If at all possible, Kurt was even more down at the next glee rehearsal, and Dave had no idea why. Gentle inquiries were ignored, and when Dave had flat out asked, Kurt had shut down and asked Dave to drop the subject. Dave had, but not without reservations.

Berry, on the other hand, bounced into the choir room like she was on freakin' Gummiberry Juice. Kurt withdrew even further, and Dave should have known it would have something to do with that chick.

Dave reached over and took Kurt's hand, twining their fingers together. Kurt squeezed back, and Dave drew Kurt's hand into his lap, making Kurt smile just a little bit and run his thumb along Dave's.

Normally, when Berry spoke, Dave heard the first three or so words, and the rest ran together into a long string of blah-blah-blah. Unless, of course, she was talking _to_ Dave, in which case he felt more like he was being lectured by a hive of buzzing bees. While he had to admit that Berry wasn't _all_ bad—she certainly had her heart in the right place most of the time—her presence had a tendency to grate over time.

She was grating now, rambling on to Quinn about her solo for Regionals. Dave raised an eyebrow at that. Schue hadn't given out the solos yet. Did Berry have some kind of inside information? Judging by the look on Quinn's face, more likely is was just Berry's ego talking.

Kurt huffed, and Dave leaned in. "Is she always like that?" Dave whispered.

Kurt shrugged. "Sometimes she's worse." He rolled his eyes. "The horrible thing is that she's usually right. She gets more solos than everybody, barring maybe Finn— and those are usually duets with Rachel." Kurt paused. "If I didn't honestly think the man had no clue, I'd think Schue was being a creeper."

"He kinda is," Dave said. Finn had told him about how Schue had gotten Finn to join glee at first, and Dave always thought there was something wrong with that story.

Kurt shrugged. "He's clueless to the real needs of his students and he plays favorites blatantly. But he's also way too hooked on Ms. P to do anything with a student."

Dave made a face, twisting his lips. He leaned back. Dave wasn't so sure about that. Schue often had a weird look on his face when he looked at Finn. Dave was just glad Finn was too caught up in his own interests to notice.

Schue bounced into the room like Mr. Rogers on uppers, and Dave had to bite his lip to hold back the snort. Kurt looked at him, raising an eyebrow to invite him to share the joke, but Dave shook his head. It was too hard to explain and Schue was already writing the word "Solos" on the board.

"Everybody ready for Regionals?!" Schue asked, sounding more like the school spirit guy at football games than a teacher.

"Ready to beat some Warbler _ass_ ," Puck called out, and Dave grinned, seeing a mean smirk on Kurt's face.

Berry half-glared at Puck, and Dave was almost surprised at how dismissive it was; like she disapproved. but didn't care enough to actually reprimand.

Schue pointed at Puck. "That's the attitude I like to see," he said. "Passionate." Schue grabbed a stack of papers off of the piano and started handing them out. "I have your music here, with your parts marked." Schue muttered names to himself as he handed out the papers, and Dave watched as Berry almost fidgeted off her seat, waiting.

Berry pounced on her script, nearly tearing it as she flipped through the pages. Her following grin was wide, but quickly faded to something half as bright—Dave guessed she must have gotten a solo, just not one as big as she had anticipated.

Schue passed Dave his music, and Dave took it, bracing it against his knee as he idly flipped through the pages. He knew they needed a baritone voice to flesh out their harmonies, but he wasn't expecting—

A solo. He had a solo part in "The Show Must Go On." He flipped faster. "Stronger" seemed to belong to the girls, but there in "You're the Voice" was a second, albeit smaller, solo. Dave blinked down at the paper in surprise and looked at Kurt, who was looking over his shoulder.

Kurt squeezed his hand. "Congratulation, Babe," Kurt whispered, and kissed Dave on the cheek. He seemed genuinely pleased for Dave, which was good, but still anxious. Schue handed Kurt his music last. Kurt took it with a blank expression, like he wasn't expecting much but was still required to make nice, and opened the booklet.

Kurt squeezed Dave's hand so tight, Dave felt his bones press together, and he squeezed back to relieve some of the pressure. He looked at Kurt's book; Kurt had solos. Kurt had the largest solo in "The Show Must Go On"—the first and the last voice heard would be Kurt's.

It felt like a sign. Dave smiled, and thought that maybe this glee thing would be fun after all.

***

The musical was set to premier one week after spring break, the first week back being Hell Week, when each rehearsal lasted until 10pm, with eight-hour rehearsals on the Saturday and Sunday.

_Because throwing a bunch of teenagers into full time rehearsal after a week off was a_ great _idea,_ Dave thought. No football or hockey coach would do that, and Dave knew it would be horrible, especially that Monday. He said as much to Kurt on their way out of the auditorium.

"You're not wrong," Kurt said, bending his back leg in a half curtsey when Dave held open the door. Kurt waited for Dave to walk through, then took his arm, curling into his side as they walked into the parking lot.

"You'll be awesome," Dave said. "I know you won't let yourself backslide."

"Which means you will too, because I'm not going to let you slip."

Dave grimaced, but didn't really mind. He liked singing alone with Kurt.

Speaking of—

"Does Schue really leave it to the last minute a lot? I mean, we've been working on this play forever, and we haven't even started rehearsing for Regionals."

Kurt snorted. "Usually, Rachel will have some kind of revelation that lends itself to her having a huge solo and saving the show," Kurt said. "Not that I'm bitter—for better or worse, she's my friend and I support her—but I think Schue's come to rely on it too much when he could just as well showcase some of his other talent." Kurt paused. "Like me."

"He should," Dave said. "You have the best voice out of all of them."

Kurt flushed, and Dave cursed every person who had ever made Kurt doubt his talents.

"It doesn't matter," Kurt said, waving his hand, and grinning at Dave. "Now we have a ringer!"

Dave grinned back, but winced internally. _No pressure, or anything. Sheesh._

***

The first glee rehearsal was a disaster. Berry was sulking after a fight with Santana (Dave wasn't exactly sure _what_ it was about, just knew that he agreed with Santana, and that the real root had something to do with Finn not magically falling back into Berry's arms). The black storm it had kicked up had everybody on edge. Finn was nervous, kept missing his cue, and Puck had checked out to beyond caustic comments and into staring blankly at the ceiling.

Dave wondered what had happened between the two of them. It was like one day they were almost-boyfriends and the next it was World War III.

Kurt was _nailing_ it. Dave was so proud, loving the way their voices played off each other as they harmonized and switched off passages, the transitions seamless between them. It _rocked_.

It also pissed Dave off, because as much praise as Dave got for being good, Kurt got nothing—not even a simple "good job, Kurt" that was oddly absent from Schue's normal Mister Rogers style of teaching. It made no sense. Schue gave him the fucking part, he should give Kurt the _credit_.

When Schue let the boys sit so that he could work with the girls on "Stronger," Dave sat next to Kurt, angry and _showing_ it, considering the way Tina was looking at him. He took a deep breath and let it out. He wasn't going to Hulk-out because of this.

Unfortunately, rehearsal went downhill from there, breaking down into a screaming-match as the girls stepped on each other's toes. At one point, Berry really stepped in it with Santana, and Dave was worried that Santana was going to break Berry's nose, but Brittany was able to pull her back before she turned to violence.

In the middle of the melt-down, Kurt stood, shouldering his bag, and walked through the ruckus like Moses through the Red Sea. Dave followed because there was no way in _hell_ he was going to be left behind.

It wasn't until they were safely out of the building that Dave spoke.

"The fuck was that?" he asked, gesturing back over his shoulder.

"That was glee," Kurt said. "Too many egos in one small room."

"I've been with you all in a small room," Dave said. "Last week, even. Santana's basement. It's never looked like this."

Kurt shrugged. "Looks like Schue wasn't the only one comfortable with the formula."

"That's terrible," Dave said.

Kurt sighed, stopping and turning to face Dave. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Dave blinked. “For what?”

“Pressuring you,” Kurt said. “You didn’t want to join and I should have respected that. Especially with this shit show.”

“Hey,” Dave said. “It’s okay. Really.” He stepped forward and pulled Kurt into a hug, resting his chin on top of Kurt’s head. Kurt sighed, but held Dave tighter when Dave tried to pull back.

“You were amazing, sweetheart,” Dave said, quietly.

“You have to think that,” Kurt said, voice muffled by Dave’s shirt. “You’re my boyfriend.”

_Yep, still a thrill._ “Well, yeah,” Dave said, smiling. “But you make it easy by being actually amazing.”

Kurt leaned back to look at Dave’s face. “You aren’t so bad yourself, Babe.”

Dave grinned, cheeky. “So, between the two of us, we’ll steal the show.”

“Damn straight,” Kurt said, then paused, smirking. “In a manner of speaking.”

Dave snorted. “Come on,” he said. “All this drama’s making me hungry. Let’s get some food, and then go give lie to that phrase.”

“Oh, is _that_ what they’re calling it these days?”

***

Dave wished he could say that things settled down after that, but they don’t. If anything, glee got even more frantic, though they did manage to refrain from any actual fisticuffs.

His cast came off the first week of April, and though the doctor cautioned Dave to be careful—no contact sports, nothing too heavy for a few weeks, and _no fighting,_ —afterwards, Dave felt more like he was walking out of a prison than the doctor’s office, the sense of freedom was so strong. He celebrated by picking Kurt up and fucking him against his bedroom wall, just because he could. The wild look Kurt got in his eyes whenever Dave showed his strength during sex was a definite bonus.

By the time spring break rolled around in the second week of April, Dave was completely over the glee drama. They had finally managed to sound like a choir. Nobody was forgetting their cues, or singing off key, or out-and-out brawling, but they were still flinging potshots across the floor. Dave was ready to knock some heads together, particularly Puck and Finn. Dave hadn’t seen them this out of sorts with each other since the whole Puck baby-daddy thing sophomore year.

They better sort themselves out right quick. With Sebastian keeping his distance until after Regionals, and Santana focused on her feud with Berry, Dave found his pool of friends narrowed down to Kurt and Brittany. Dave would never think time with Kurt was a bad thing, but he missed the way he could bitch with Santana and he was sure Kurt missed sniping with Sebastian. Brittany was sweet, but it wasn’t the same. Kurt assured Dave that whatever it was between Puck and Finn would blow over, and Dave thought they couldn’t kiss and make up fast enough.

Regionals were held on the Friday over spring break, so they had a full week between the end of classes and their performance. Dave’s original plan of kidnapping Kurt and not leaving the bedroom all week was foiled when they got a mass text from Finn on the morning of their last day before freedom.

_”meet in the aud after school_

So, instead of running for freedom with everybody else, Dave, Kurt, and Mercedes made their way to the auditorium, where the rest of glee-minus-Schue was gathered.

“Okay,” Finn said, jumping onto the stage once everybody had taken a seat. “These past weeks have sucked.” Finn looked like he did in the locker room, being _the quarterback._ It was a good look on him, and Dave noticed Puck sitting a little straighter.

“Regionals are in a week, and we’re a mess,” Finn said. “That means we’ve got to practice. Get that spark! Where’s our drive, huh?”

“Stuck in neutral,” Santana said, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. “So why don’t you get out and push?”

“San _tan_ a,” Berry scolded. “Finn is trying to.” She looked up at the stage and Dave would later swear he saw actual hearts in her eyes. “And it’s up to us to help him.”

“Thank you,” Finn said. “So let’s everybody get out of the car, and on stage, and help me push!”

Dave looked on, impressed. Yes, Finn lost the metaphor somewhere, but the club was up and moving. There was still something lacking, some fire, but they weren’t picking on each other, either. After three straight run thrus, Finn clapped his hands.

“All right!” Finn cheered. “Guys, that was much better! We’ve got a shot at this! Don’t forget we have a full eight hours on Monday for the choreography, so don’t be late and bring your dancing shoes!”

The auditorium cleared quickly after that. Dave looked around as the door swung shut behind Artie, leaving him and Kurt in the aisle. “And this is normal?” Dave said, looking at Kurt.

Kurt shrugged. “Last year, we performed a song at Nationals that we wrote the morning of. Schue’s always played fast and loose with time.”

Dave pulled his backpack over one shoulder. “I hope it’s nothing too complicated.”

Kurt grinned. “I’ve seen you wiggle your tush, mister. You’re going to have no problems.”

Dave paused in front of the double doors, hand on his chest, mock affronted. “Excuse me? I do not _wiggle my tush._ ”

“Yes you do,” Kurt said. “When you’re jogging on and off the football field. You wiggle. Your. Tush.” Kurt grinned. “In spandex.”

“That is manly ass-shaking. It’s different.” Dave narrowed his eyes. “Besides, if either one of us is a tush-wiggler, it’s you.” Dave had a very clear picture in his mind of Kurt’s tush wiggling. In fact, he had several. He was partial to the tight pants of “Born this Way,” and the blue-denim ass of “Push It” would always have a special place in his heart. The dimly-lit ass at _Scandals_ made his blood heat and his heart thud in more than just arousal, but his absolute favorite was their first night together, when Kurt had teased, slinking away from the bed to the shower, and Dave was finally allowed to just _look_.

Dave ran a hand down Kurt’s lower back and over the curve of his ass, to feel Kurt wiggle as he walked past, and followed him out of the door.

***

Monday morning came way too early, but Dave was used to early morning practices and was able to get up and ready mostly on autopilot. After all, there was no way choreography was worse than worse than suicides. Right?

Still—better safe than sorry. By the time Kurt arrived, Dave had eaten (eggs with oatmeal and fruit), and packed lunch for himself and Kurt.

Kurt honked twice outside, and Dave grabbed his bag and jogged to the Nav. Kurt had a large cup of coffee waiting for him. Dave took it with a grin and a kiss and Kurt drove them to the school. Dave looked over Kurt’s outfit as he drove; he was dressed in yoga pants and a grey tank top and a slip hoodie—a much more fitted and fashionable version of Dave’s athletic shorts, tee, and McKinley hoodie.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed down,” Dave said.

Kurt frowned. “You’ve seen me naked,” he pointed out.

“It’s different,” Dave said, and it was. Naked, Kurt held a certain kind of natural grace, like a renaissance painting or a fashionable magazine spread. Maybe Dave was just romanticizing it in his head, but it felt different. Probably because it was something private between the two of them.

“If you say so,” Kurt said. “You ready for this?”

“Think so,” Dave said. “It’s been a while since I had an excuse to work out. I missed it.”

Kurt hummed. “Tell me that again when we break for lunch.”

Dave chuckled and sipped his coffee. “No Finn?”

“Finn spent the night at Puck’s,” Kurt said.

“Really?” Dave raised his eyebrows. “They kiss and make up, then?”

“I hope so,” Kurt said. “It was bad enough the last time they fought.” He pulled into the parking lot next to a bleary eyed Quinn and Santana. Brittany waved brightly at them. “I don’t wanna,” Kurt said, quietly.

Dave cupped the back of Kurt’s head and kissed him gently, thoroughly, until he felt lightheaded.

“Not fair,” Kurt breathed against his lips.

“More after,” Dave said. “Come on.” He opened the door to Santana’s wolf whistle.

“Wanky,” Santana said, looking much more awake. Next to her, Quinn was slightly pink and twinkling. Brittany was beaming. “Get some, Hummel.”

“I fully intend to,” Kurt said, coming around the front of the Nav to take Dave’s arm. “If Finn doesn’t dance us to death.”

They walked into the building and Dave asked, “Is that a possibility?”

“Depends,” Kurt said. “If we’re dancing until we get it right, or until _he_ gets it right. He’s improved greatly, but he still has two left feet.”

“We might be here a while,” Quinn said.

“I don’t mind,” Brittany said. “It’s easier than practice with Coach Sylvester.”

Dave had no doubt that was true.

“But so is learning how to wrestle bears,” Kurt said. “I wouldn’t use Cheerio practice as a measuring stick to anything.”

They weren’t the first to arrive—that was Berry. Artie, Tina, and Chang were next. Sam and Mercedes walking in a few minutes after Dave. Finn and Puck arrived last, still awkward, but the flat out avoidance was over.

Schue came in clapping, dressed down himself in a tee shirt and track pants, and _man_ it was weird to see a teacher so casual.

“Are we ready?” he cheered. There was no other word for it.

They agreed half-heartedly, Kurt raising a hand in a fist and calling out a dry “whoo hoo” that had Dave snickering into his hand.

“Excellent!” Schue said. “Mike? Brittany? Lets show them what we’ve got!”

Brittany bounced to the stage, Chang loping behind her.

"Ready," Schue said, and pressed play on the stereo. "Go!"

Brittany and Chang struck a pose and started to dance.

_Oh._ Dave felt his eyes widen as his heart sank. _Fuck._

By the time the third song ended, Schue clapping and eager, everyone save Berry was looking on in horror-tinged despair.

"Oh my God," Dave whispered.

"Your God won’t save you now," Kurt muttered in Dave's ear as he walked by.

Dave didn't whimper, but it was a near thing.

***

They worked through to nearly noon, and Schue's call for lunch was a welcome reprieve. Dave sank to the floor next to his bag, damp and tired.

Kurt dropped next to him. "You okay?"

"That's a lot harder than I remember," Dave admitted. He had nearly fond memories of learning the halftime show. He would bring no fond memories from this day.

"We may have simplified things for the halftime show," Chang said, sitting nearby with Tina. He looked less tired than the rest of them, and Dave glared half-heartedly. Chang shrugged. "You have to admit, most of our team has two left feet."

"Some have three," Kurt muttered, and Dave nodded, thinking of Az. Az, at least, knew he was hopeless.

"Besides," Brittany said. "Dalton always has flashy dancing. We need to be just as flashy."

"Makes sense," Dave said. "Still hurts."

"Still hungry," Kurt said. "Didn't you say you'd bring lunch?"

Dave nodded, passing a container to Kurt. It was a good thing he had gone with his instinct and packed a football lunch. He'd been tempted to pack last night's leftovers, but as hard as they were working, the lasagna would just weigh them down.

Kurt dug in with a little moan of pleasure, and Santana peeked over his shoulder into the container.

"Fuck, Cubby! You cook, too?"

"You've seen me cook," Dave protested.

"Not like this," Santana said, and frowned at her own sandwich. "Bring me some tomorrow."

"Schue's buying us lunch tomorrow," Kurt said.

"Crappy subs or Dave cooking?" Santana said, pretending to weigh them.

"I'm eating free crappy sub," Dave said around a mouthful. "You can, too."

Kurt grinned at Santana, smug, and stuck out his tongue.

As people finished stuffing their faces, they started to relax. Dave saw Mercedes sitting with her eyes closed, Chang rubbing Tina's calves, and Finn and Puck resting back to back, keeping each other propped up as they passed a large bag of Doritos back and forth. Dave _really_ wanted to know what they were fighting about, but knew he couldn't just ask. It was none of his business, and besides—they wouldn't talk about it, anyway.

Dave wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders and started replaying the steps in his head. After lunch, they were singing as they danced and Dave didn't want to trip them up.

***

After a brief break at five, they ended at seven with a simple choral rehearsal. All in all, not counting their breaks, they had been at it for over ten hours.

Dave dreaded the drive home, knowing sitting would stiffen his muscles.

_Except..._ an idea began to form.

Kurt settled into the drivers seat with a groan.

"You want to go in the hot tub?" Dave asked.

Kurt froze. "You have a hot tub?"

Dave grinned and pulled out his phone, calling his dad and asking if he could set it up for them. Paul laughed at him, but agreed, saying that dinner would also be ready when they got there. Kurt was staring expectantly as Dave hung up.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Winter," Dave said, shrugging. "It was always kinda Mom's thing," and the twinge at that was larger than Dave wanted it to be, but smaller than it had been, "but it's good for sore muscles. I use it sometimes after football."

Kurt looked tempted and stricken. "I don't have my suit."

Dave waved it off. "Don't worry. I've got you covered.

***

Kurt looked dubiously at the shorts Dave held out to him. They were old, true, by a few years—from before Dave hit his big growth spurt, for sure. They’d be short, but they wouldn’t fall off Kurt’s hips.

Well, not as _much._

Dave shoot the shorts and Kurt took them, ducking into Dave’s bathroom to change. Chuckling, Dave stripped himself and pulled on his own navy and lime boardshorts, tying off the laces as Kurt walked back out of the bathroom.

…

Dave was sure he’d never looked that good in those shorts.

They were red, faded but not yet to pink, with a large white stripe down the leg. They had never hugged Dave in a way that outlined his ass, or clung to his—

“Eyes up here, handsome.”

Dave jerked his eyes up. Kurt was pink, but he was smiling, and Dave grinned. “Hey, I’m allowed to look.”

“Look later,” Kurt said. “Water now.”

Dave grinned and gestured for Kurt to lead the way. Kurt rolled his eyes—and yeah, Dave had to admit that the view was _very_ nice—but preceded Dave down the stairs anyway. Dave caught up in the kitchen and led Kurt out onto the back deck and down the steps to the lawn. Kurt hopped as he walked, clearly cold, and Dave hid his grin. Kurt wouldn’t be cold for long.

The hot tub was in its own house halfway back the left fence of the yard. It had been landscaped when it was installed, but the path was all that remained. The little house had five little windows, and the door could be propped open for ventilation, but that was usually only in the summer. Dave opened the door and Kurt scooted up the little ram. Dave followed, closing the door behind them and flipping the latch to make sure the doors stayed shut.

The little house was softly lit by several votive candles—his mother’s, true, but Dave had to roll his eyes at his dad for lighting them. They had the battery camp lanterns for a reason, though Kurt seemed impressed.

“Babe,” Kurt said, quietly. “This is amazing.”

And really, it was. The room was warm, the gently steaming water filling the room with a haze that softened the edges. Paul had opened every other window, and a cool breeze blew through every so often.

Kurt smacked lightly at Dave’s arm. “And you kept this from me.”

“Not on purpose,” Dave protested. He hung their towels on the rack, kicking off his flip flops and grinning when he heard Kurt groan as he sank into the water. Dave turned and was smacked in the face by a wad of nylon.

“Wha—” Dave grabbed the cloth and pulled it away; it was the red shorts he had lent Kurt.

Dave felt a jolt like too much sugar rush through him, cold and hot, and settle low in his gut. Kurt was _naked._

He looked up; Kurt was flushed, with heat of lack of trunks or both, but he was grinning at Dave. Kurt beckoned him closer with a finger.

Dave hung Kurt’s shorts on the towel rack, and shucked his own shorts before climbing up and over and into the water. Dave had barely sat before he had Kurt swimming across to him, climbing into his lap with the easy slide of slick skin. He sank down against Dave, chest to chest. Dave gasped at the sensation, stealing the breath from Kurt’s mouth as Kurt shuddered against him, barely kissing in a press of open mouths as Kurt moved and shifted. Dave gripped Kurt’s sides as best he could to guide him.

Everything was smooth, slippery, and Dave couldn’t get the traction to move the way he wanted, and he whined a little in the back of his throat. Kurt laughed, rolling his hips as he settled into a rhythm, head falling back.

Dave leaned forward as Kurt arched, biting his collarbone, and sucking faint marks down Kurt's chest to mouth at Kurt's nipple, working the hardened nub with his tongue. Kurt breathed out sharply, fingers curling into Dave's biceps. Dave grinned, scratching lightly with his teeth. Kurt wound his fingers through the hair at the back of Dave's head and tugged sharply, pulling Dave's face away.

"That's enough," Kurt said, voice low and surprisingly husky.

"You like it," Dave said, surprised by the roughness of his own voice. Kurt tightened his grip and Dave's eyes half-shut at the bright splash of not-quite-pain. 

Kurt grinned, playful. "You should make it up to me,” he teased, scraping his fingers through the back of Dave’s hair. 

"Oh?" Dave asked, goosebumps rising on his skin. “I should huh?” 

Kurt nodded, biting his lip. 

“And how should I do that?” Dave prompted. 

“You,” Kurt said, drawing it out and tapping Dave on the nose with his finger, “should suck me.” 

“Oh, I should, should I?” Dave said, but he was already shifting, bracing himself so he could steady Kurt as he half-lifted, half-guided him out of the water so that he was standing astride Dave’s lap. 

"Yes" Kurt hissed. Dave held on and Kurt grabbed his cock to guide it towards Dave's face. Kurt placed his hand on Dave's cheek, and Dave opened his mouth. Kurt just barely pressed against Dave's lower lip, and Dave felt the heavy drag on his skin. Kurt slid in.

Dave reveled in the familiar weight on his tongue, the taste muted by the water on his skin, but still so very much Kurt.

"Yeah, Babe," Kurt sighed. "You're so good at this." Dave pressed forward, taking Kurt deeper, and Kurt petted Dave's hair. "You look so good like this," Kurt said, and thrust shallowly. "Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real— _oh!_."

Dave own cock bobbed in the water, thick and full and desperate for some kind of friction. To have Kurt in his mouth, to hear those moans that meant Kurt was close, to have the water drifting past his cock with just not _enough_ of anything—Dave felt wild with it.

"Just like that," Kurt said. "Sgood, so good..."

Dave took a deep breath and let himself go, pushed his own needs away and focused on Kurt.

Kurt noticed; he cried out sharply, hips snapping and Dave moved with him, his whole world narrowed to the taste, the heft of Kurt as he filled—

"Oh, shit, Babe, I—" Kurt broke off, arched tight as he came, and Dave coughed, pushing Kurt away just enough to work him with his hand, and feeling the wet slide of hot come on his face and slipping through his fingers. Dave needed to come, _now_.

"Fuck, Babe..." Kurt gasped, still shaking, and Dave lowered him back down to sit on Dave's knees. "You're so good, such a good..." Kurt trailed off, curling in and leaning against Dave's chest. His mouth found Dave's ear, nuzzling and worrying the lobe with his teeth, as his hand—finally, his hand—found Dave's neglected cock.

"Come for me," Kurt said. "Please."

Dave cried out, orgasm catching him off-guard by its ferocity. Kurt stroked Dave through the aftershocks, until Dave stopped his hand, pulling it away and twining their fingers together. Kurt pressed his temple against Dave's.

"My god," Kurt whispered. "Babe."

"I feel like that should be my line," Dave said, arms coming up around Kurt and holding him close. Dave felt good, settled in a way he hadn't expected.

"So," Kurt said. "You like it when I take charge." He spoke into the crook of Dave's neck, and Dave cupped a hand around the back of Kurt's head.

"I do," Dave said. It was nice to have someone else he trusted to take the lead, someone Dave knew could not only keep up, could challenge him. Kurt had always been good at challenging him. 

“You’ve gotten much more relaxed,” Kurt said. 

“I hear great sex will do that,” Dave agreed, and Kurt swatted gently at his side. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” he said. 

“I know,” Dave said, brushing his fingers lightly over Kurt's sides. Kurt giggled and wiggled, and it was too soon for Dave's cock to really take interest, but it gave a valiant effort. “You, too,” he said. It was true, and not just around him. Kurt was more himself in public than ever before, more confident without the need to hide behind his fashions. It was a good look on him. 

"I love you," Kurt said.

"I love you, too," Dave said, and turned Kurt's chin to kiss him. Kurt hummed into the kiss, and Dave tightened his grip. Maybe it wasn't too soon, after all...

***

If Dave thought waking up on Monday was hard, waking up on Tuesday was way worse. The alarm woke him slowly, taking over his dreams until he was suddenly in his bed, feeling so heavy he was surprised he hadn’t sunk straight through to the floor. With great effort, he swiped at his phone, sending it skittering off his end table.

Dave swore, his mouth turning his brain’s emphatic “Fuck” to a blurry “Fuh…,” and he forced himself to move, reaching and sliding, hanging half-off the bed to shut off the alarm. Once it was silenced, Dave hung there, letting the blood flow to his head until he felt dizzy, then slowly crawled from the bed, trailing his top sheet behind. He wasn’t sore, exactly—the hot tub had really helped with that—but he existed in a realm of possibility. At any moment, the tension could blossom into pain.

The shower helped, both to wake him up and soothe the not-ache, but not by much.

Dave ended up waiting in the driveway, hoping the cold would shock him awake. He bounced on his toes to keep his muscles from stiffening and sighed in relief when he saw the Nav pull up. Dave climbed into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss Kurt hello. He couldn’t wait until he could do that without braving the cold first.

The coffee Kurt brought was a godsend. Even the smell of it was invigorating, and Dave drank it down with a pleased sigh, not caring that he had probably just scalded his tongue.

“Tired?” Kurt asked, voice warm with amusement.

“You wore me out,” Dave said. Frowning, he scraped his tongue with his teeth. Yep. Scalded. Damnit. Someone choked in the backseat, and Dave turned to see Finn lying down, half-asleep.

“Dude,” Finn protested. “Brother.”

“Dude,” Dave said. “Boyfriend.”

“We’re picking up Puck next,” Kurt said, and Dave snorted at the way Finn seemed mollified at that, turning back around to watch the road. Dave raised an eyebrow at Kurt, who rolled his eyes when he saw. _Subtle._

“I’m not looking forward to today,” Dave said, sipping his coffee more carefully his time. Kurt pulled into Puck’s apartment complex.

“It won’t be so bad,” Kurt said. “Mostly run-thrus and some vocals, with a large chunk for costume fittings.” He pulled up to the curb, and Puck burst from the doors with enough force that Dave first thought someone was chasing him. But no, Puck must have just been running late, as he was still pulling on his jacket, his belt undone and a Pop Tart hanging from his mouth. Finn scooted up, and Puck crashed into the back seat.

“Oh my God, drive!” Puck said. Maybe he had been chased. As Kurt pulled away, a young girl, middle school age, ran out of the same door, screaming. Puck slunk down.

“What did you do to your sister?” Kurt asked, sounding so much like his dad that Dave nearly choked on his coffee.

“I don’t even know, anymore,” Puck admitted. “Girls get strange as they get older.”

Finn’s eyes got wide. “Isn’t she a little young for girl-crazy?”

“Not necessarily,” Kurt said. “Rachel was early. So was Santana.”

Dave’s eyes widened when he figured out just wash, exactly “girl-crazy” meant. “Dude,” he said, sounding vaguely sick. “How do you know that?”

Kurt shrugged. “Slumber parties.”

“It’s like living with the wolfman! One minute she’s fine, the next she’s screaming mad, and then she’ll burst into tears! I have no idea what’s wrong, but somehow it’s all my fault!”

“Hopefully that’ll settle as she gets older,” Kurt said. “Poor kid.”

“Poor kid? Poor me! I’m the target!”

“And she’s the one whose hormones are fucking with her head,” Kurt said.

Puck slumped back against the seat. “I’m going to have to start buying her tampons and crap now, aren’t I.”

Finn patted Puck’s shoulder. “You could always buy her Depends, instead.”

Puck snorted. “Yeah, if I wanna _die._ My badass can withstand tampons; tampons are nothing. But I’m not buying _Depends_ for nobody.”

“Get her chocolate covered pretzels,” Dave said. Everybody looked at him and he shrugged. “What? It’s what my aunt always wanted. Something about endorphins and electrolytes. Cravings.”

Puck nodded, thoughtfully, and Kurt pulled into the school parking lot.

Reluctantly, Dave swallowed the last of his coffee, and followed the others into the building.

***

Kurt was right, in that the bulk of the day was going over what they already knew. It was tiring, this perfectionism, but still easier than the day before had been.

True to his word, Schue bought everyone lunch in the form of three of the largest sub sandwiches Dave had ever seen. Each was at least four feet long, six inches wide and four to five inches tall.

“Isn’t that overkill?” Berry asked somewhere to Dave’s left.

Kurt snorted. “Overkill? I’m worried it won’t be enough,” he said, and pushed his way through to the front, Dave following in his wake.

Sure enough, by the time the club had taken their firsts, there was little over one sub left. Judging by the way Puck and Chang were eyeing the food table, even as they tore into the sandwiches in their hands, they wouldn’t last long. Dave sat next to Kurt, who was sitting with Mercedes and Evans. Santana and Brittany joined them a minute later.

Schue actually joined them while they ate today, sitting between Finn and Berry, which got him a look from the little diva that had Dave sharing a smirk with Santana. Finn only had eyes for Puck, however, to the point that Dave was sure even Schue noticed, but instead of putting two and two together, Schue seemed to think Finn was worried about his dancing, and said something, much to Finn’s confusion.

“I can give him an extra hand,” Puck said, cutting off Berry as she started to speak.

“Yeah, I bet you could,” Mercedes said under her breath. Evans looked at her confused, but Mercedes waved him off.

Santana sniggered. “That’s not all he could,” she said. Dave rolled his eyes.

“I wish he would. The tension is starting to get to me.”

“You want to use some of my massage oil?” Brittany asked, unconcerned when Santana started coughing. “’Tana says it’s a miracle worker.”

Evans looked far too interested at that, and Mercedes shoved his shoulder. Santana was red, but that was probably more from the coughing. A massage was just innocent enough to be something she wouldn’t care if people knew, while being suggestive enough to give her some sort of angle, some sort of tease about being all slicked up and—

Dave wondered if Kurt would like a massage.

From the look Kurt was giving Dave, he was probably wondering the same thing. Dave felt the back of his neck grow warm. After last night, the possibilities were limitless. Breathtaking. Kurt licked his lips.

Realizing he was staring, Dave quickly looked away, biting into his sandwich and just catching the edge of Kurt’s smirk. Heh. Tease.

Schue disappeared before they had finished eating, appearing a few minutes later with racks of identical men’s clothes.

“Once we’re finished here, we’re moving on to fittings. Girls, your costumes are in the choir room, and Em—Ms. Pilsbury will be here in a few minutes to lend a hand.” Schue clapped—really, what was wrong with the guy?—and everyone worked on finishing their food.

“It’s the worst time to try on clothes,” Kurt said. “Everybody knows that. You don’t try on clothes after you eat. We’ll be adjusting everything in a few days again!”

“We’ll have to do something about that for Nationals,” Dave said. He nudged Kurt’s shoulder. “Maybe you can do something about that.”

Kurt looked considering. “Maybe.”

Soon enough, the dishes were cleared away, and the girls had left for the choir room. It was odd to change in such a big space, and on a stage, but it was just the guys and Dave had shared a locker room with most of them. Anyway, it wasn’t like they were getting naked.

Schue jogged out to get safety pins from Ms. P, and Dave pulled off his shirt to slip into the McKinley-red button-down before him. His mind was on the fabric, Papa in his ear complaining about the evils of spandex in cotton, and the rough texture of low thread count fabric, when Puck let out a low whistle next to him.

“Goddamn, Hummel,” Puck said. “What’d you do, maul the guy?”

“What?” Dave said, turning to look. Kurt was beat red the expression on his face a cross between pissed, proud, and mortified, and Puck was staring at Dave’s back. Well, now at Dave’s front. He looked down at himself, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary: a few moles, chest hair, faded bite marks, a suck mark or seven, scratches that were obviously from nails, a faint shadowy line across his lower back from the edge of the hot tub, and okay, fine, Puck had a point.

Dave looked Puck over, and looked to Kurt, raising an eyebrow and smiling to show that Dave was cool. Some of the darkness left Kurt’s face, leaving behind a wryly amused smirk.

“With relish,” Kurt said—no, _purred,_ and Dave felt a shiver run up his spine. Slowly, Dave grinned, knowing he looked like the cat who got the cream and really not giving a fuck. His eyes strayed to where he knew Kurt had marks of his own hidden, but somehow Kurt had managed to change without showing the world.

The door opened as Schue came back, and it was enough to snap Dave out of it, quickly pulling on his shirt. And doing up the buttons. Normally, he’d wait until he had his pants on to button his shirt, but there were still a few bruises that Dave wanted to keep from the public eye.

The shirt was tight around his biceps, but not in anyway that would impede motion, so that was fine. He wasn’t in danger of popping any buttons, but the material bagged a bit at his waist, and he wondered if Schue would let him do the alterations himself. If nothing else, the collar closed and the sleeves were long enough. He could make do.

Black pants were next, then the black tie, and finally the black waistcoat that had some sort of shimmery thread woven through the front, making them glitter silver under the lights. Dave wasn’t too sure about the look, but at least they all looked uniform. Kurt, of course, managed to turn it out, but Dave knew that was more Kurt being Kurt than any comment on the group.

Schue clapped his hands—really? _really?_ — and said, “Line up, let me look at you.”

Dave joined the others, standing between Kurt and Finn, feeling like he was in elementary school and they were lining up in height order. He fiddled with his tie, which was habit more than anything. No way would his inner Papa voice let him tie anything less than a perfect knot.

Schue was beaming like a proud parent. Kurt leaned in, “I’m thinking something with hats for Nationals. Trilby, maybe.”

“1930s retro? Noir chic?” Dave murmured back.

“Only if you promise to be my private dick,” Kurt shot back. On Kurt’s other side, Evans shot them both a look and Dave wasn’t sure if he was confused or about to break into his Sean Connery impersonation.

The doors opened again, and the girls filed through. They were all wearing dresses of the same shimmery black as the guy’s vests, with red underslips and slim red belts. They joined the guys on stage, pairing up like they would be at the start of the act, Brittany with Chang, Dave with Santana, Kurt with Quinn, Evans with Mercedes, Finn with Rachel, and Puck with Tina. Artie rolled solo, and seemed to like it that way.

Ms. P joined Schue in front of the stage, clapping before she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Oh!” she burst out. “You look like winners!”

Looking down the line, Dave had to agree.


	9. Reprise pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The countdown to Regionals. And the winner is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many thanks to raving_liberal for being such an awesome beta!
> 
> only one chapter after this, guys!

Wednesday, Dave woke to a pounding at his door.

“The fuck…?” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. Again, pounding like someone was about to break down his door. In testament to the stress Dave had been under, he had a fleeting moment of “Shit, they found me!” before he realized no one was after him. Then—

“Fucker, if you don’t open this motherfuckin’ door…”

_Az._

Dave flopped back onto the bed. _Son of a bitch._ “The fuck do you want?” Dave yelled back.

“I want you to get your fat ass outta bed,” Az shouted back. “So put on some fucking pants. I’m not the one who wants to see your naked ass.”

Dave grinned at the ceiling. Damn, it was good to have his best friend back.

“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” Dave called, and rolled off his bed. Pulling on his jeans from the night before, he tugged his tank down over his stomach as he walked. He jerked open the door to see Az grinning up at him, smug as anything.

“You look like shit,” Az said gleefully, pushing past and into Dave’s room. Dave rolled his eyes, but combed his fingers through his hair and scratched at the stubble on his face. Yeah, he would look rough, after the last two days.

Az was poking around Dave’s bedside table, rosy bastard, and Dave rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t open that, if I were you,” Dave said, grabbing his towel. Az had the balls to wake him up, he could deal with waiting for Dave to shower. “Never know just what you’ll find.”

Az pulled his hands away like he’d been scalded, and Dave hid a laugh. Truth, that drawer housed his hockey cards. Dave never kept sex stuff in that drawer—it was too easy to find. He kept his porn on the internet, like most teenagers. Toys were something seen online and never experienced, though Dave would admit he was a little curious. Condoms were a non-issue and the lube ended up between the mattress and the headboard the last time Kurt came over, and stayed there.

Still—it was worth it to see Az flinch.

“Wuss,” Dave snorted and headed towards his bathroom. “Imma shower. You might want to keep your hands on things that are readily visible.” Dave grinned, shutting the bathroom door between them. He showered quickly. Wiping the condensation off of his mirror, he considered shaving, and decided he could go another day before he really needed to. It had already grown past the sandpaper stage, so if he _did_ manage to kiss Kurt before he could shave, he wouldn’t take Kurt’s skin with it.

Though, judging by Kurt’s reaction to Dave’s stubble, Dave was interested in seeing his reaction to an actual _beard_.

Wrapping his towel around his waist, Dave gathered the clothes on the floor and walked back through into his bedroom. Az had started up his Xbox, and glanced away from where he was killing zombies when he heard the door open.

“Dude, for real?” Az protested.

Dave rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ you haven’t seen in the locker room, numbnuts,” Dave said. Holding his towel with one hand, he tossed his jeans onto the bed—they’d be good for today—and the rest of his clothes into the hamper. Az grumbled, but there was no real complaint in his voice as Dave dug through his drawers for a clean pair of boxer briefs and a long-sleeved grey henley. He sat on the bed next to Az to put on his socks and boots, groaning in response to Az’s avatar getting swarmed on screen.

Az shut off the game with a disgusted noise and watched as Dave pulled his laces tight. “You know those are boots, not skates, right?”

“I know how to tie my own goddamn shoes,” Dave said.

“Ha!” Az said. “You’ve been lost without me. That right there is proof.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who walked away,” Dave said. He kept his eyes on his laces and Az sighed next to him.

“Yeah, you did,” Az said. “You’ve been walking away since long before you told me,” Az held up his hand to forestall Dave’s protest. “I don’t blame you, given the way I _did_ react. I’m sorry. I shoulda been there.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Dave said. He swayed and knocked his shoulder against Az’s. “You’re forgiven.”

“Good,” Az said. “Cause we’re going to the arcade and Imma whip your ass at any game of your choosing in the name of brotherhood.”

“You’re gonna try,” Dave said.

“You’re gonna lose,” Az said and stood. He grabbed Dave’s letterman and held it out. “Now get dressed.”

Dave stared at the jacket. “I don’t think I can wear that one,” he said. For so long, that jacket represented everything he was trying—and failing—to be. He hadn’t worn it since Valentine’s Day. It was Karofsky’s jacket—not Dave’s.

“Why not?” Az said. “You’re varsity, man. You earned it.”

Dave scowled. “You know as well as I do that this jacket means more than that.”

“Yeah, it used to,” Az said. “But it’s been changing ever since Hudson joined glee.” He snorted. “You know that. We fought against it and lost, remember?”

“I’m scared of who I am in that,” Dave said, closing his eyes.

“You’re you, no matter what you wear,” Az said. Dave raised an eyebrow. Az shifted. “You’re not the only one who can grow up, you know.” Still, Dave hesitated. Az shook the jacket. “C’mon, man. Help me prove that not all jocks are dickwads.”

It was enough. Dave took the jacket, sliding it on with practiced ease. It felt good, worn in. It settled around his shoulders with none of the pressure to perform it used to have. It was a just jacket.

“Thanks,” Dave said quietly.

“Whatever, man,” Az said, brushing it off. He spoke equally quietly, and Dave could read it— _you’re welcome._

***

The Mall was—The Mall. It never really changed; it smelled of recycled air and too many bodies. As they walked past the stores, other scents wafted by—Cinnabon, Auntie Annie’s. The floral death stench that was Bath and Body Works.

Auntie Annie’s proved too much for Dave, and he bought a pretzel on their way to the arcade. It wasn’t as full as Dave expected. Most of the kids were younger, sent there by shopping mothers.

There was a new game, a two-person shooter with plastic guns. The players were spies on a mission. It sounded good, and Dave pointed it out to Az.

“You’re going down,” Az said.

“It’s a co-op, fucker,” Dave said.

“All the sweeter,” As said, and then they were shooting, blasting the pixels away. Dave lasted longer, Az taken out by a sniper neither was expecting. They moved on to the racing games.

“Ain’t no way your fat ass will fit on that little seat.”

“Shut up, dick.”

Dave grinned. “Skeeball?”

“Do I look nine?”

“ _Dance Dance Revolution?_ ”

“Imma kill you in your sleep.”

By one, the pretzel really wasn’t cutting it anymore, and they headed over to the food court. As a general rule, Dave wasn’t really fond of fast food—probably because he knew how to easy it was to make good food—but there was something to be said for vast quantity at little cost.

And, you know, _cheesesteaks._

Dave was laughing at Az, who was failing to eat his General Tso’s chicken with chopsticks, when he heard it.

“Check it—it’s that homo from the hockey team.”

“Yeah? He doesn’t look like a faggot.”

Dave put his cheesesteak down, appetite gone. Az stabbed his chopsticks into his lunch, scowling over Dave’s shoulder. Bracing himself, Dave looked.

A group of junior varsity players—football wannabes—were laughing at Dave.

“For real?” Az muttered. “Fucking JV thinks they can mess?”

“We’re revolutionizing the social order,” Dave said. “Bottom-feeders always think they can climb to the top.” Az raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I pay attention in history.”

“Who’re you calling a bottom feeder?!”

Dave looked up—a trio of the JV idiots were at their table. Judging by his voice, their leader was the one who pointed Dave out in the first place.

“Ease up, Frosh,” Dave said.

“Did I ask you, cocksucker?”

Dave was on his feet, the idiot’s jacket fisted in his hand. The kid looked ready to piss himself, like he hadn’t realized just how _big_ Dave was. Az was on his feet next to Dave, ready to play interference with the other two. 

“Now,” Dave said, pulling the kid in close. “I’m only going to only say this once, so listen closely. You are a freshman. I am a senior. That makes me better than you. I’m varsity, you’re only JV. That makes me better than you. I’m graduating and getting out of this loser town, and you’ll be a Lima Loser forever. That makes me better than you. And finally, I’m proud of who—and what—I am, so I don’t need to go around picking on other people for my own insecurities. _That_ makes me better than you.” Dave dropped the kid and he staggered back. Dave looked him up and down. “And I’d look real hard at _why_ you feel the need to pick on the gay guy. I did, and I found out that I like the cock.” Dave raises his eyebrows pointedly, as if to say _Yes, I’m implying that you, too, are gay. It doesn’t bother me, but you need to look real hard at why it bothers you._

The kid brushed himself off, shaking with impotent anger and not a little fear. “Fuck you!” he spat and ran off, his buddies behind him.

“You’re not my type,” Dave called back, and sat down, taking a huge bite of cheesesteak. Az dropped back into his seat, shoulders heaving with laughter. “You okay?” Dave asked.

“That was the funniest fucking thing I have seen all day,” Az said, wiping his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’ve always been a sassy bitch.”

Dave snorted and finished his cheesesteak. It tasted like victory.

“Come on,” Az said. “Let’s see what’s playing at the theater. I’ll even buy the hero popcorn.”

“You’re lucky I’m such a cheap date.”

Az snorted. “I’ve seen you put away popcorn. You’re anything but cheap. Besides, you wish you could hit this.”

“In my deepest, darkest nightmares,” Dave said.

“Fucking right.”

Later that night, after Az had left (and made Dave cook him dinner, the mooch), and Dave had called Kurt to say goodnight, he lay in bed smiling at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

It had been a good day.

***

It was rare that Dave let so much time pass since last seeing Gram and Papa, but with two separate rehearsal schedules—and, honestly, spending as much time with Kurt as possible—there just hadn’t been time. So, when Gram called him on Thursday morning, saying “I’m making _pirozhki_ for dinner. You will be here by five, and you will be bringing your boyfriend with you.” Dave said the only thing he could.

“Yes, Gram.”

She asked him to bring something for dessert, and Dave texted Kurt once they hung up.

_gram said we’re having dinner with them tonight. pirozhki._

Dave stood and stretched, and jogged down the stairs to check the pantry. Gram wanted crumble, so Dave was going to make crumble. His phone buzzed in his pocket when he was poking around the cereal.

_What time?_

_by 5. we should leave here 4ish_

Dave looked at his phone, considering.

_i have to go to the store. want me to pick you up?_

Dave quickly jotted down a list and grabbed his keys.

_Get here in ten, and I’ll buy you lunch, too._

Dave grinned.

_it’s a date :)_

***

They barely made it out to the car by 4, Kurt smoothing his hair and Dave juggling the crumble and his keys. Kurt spread a pinched tea towel over his lap and gestured for Dave to hand over the desert so he could drive.

“We’re not going to be late, are we?” Kurt asked as Dave backed out of the driveway.

“Nah,” Dave said. “And if we are, it’s okay.” He flashed a grin at Kurt. “Promise.”

“Hmm,” Kurt said, and let it drop. Conversation was light between the two of them, often paused to sing along to the radio, but as they got closer, Kurt got quieter. He started to pick at the edge of the tea towel, worrying a loose thread between his fingers.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Dave said. “They already love you, trust me.”

Kurt shot Dave a look. “They’ve never met me.”

Dave shrugged. “It’s entirely possible that I’ve been talking Gram’s ear off about you for a while now.”

Kurt snorted and looked out the window. “Are we close?”

“Right… here!” Dave said, and pulled into the driveway. He turned off the engine and leaned in to kiss Kurt. “It will be fine.”

“I hope so,” Kurt said quietly.

Dave grinned and climbed out of the truck. He walked quickly around the front of the car to open Kurt’s door and take the crumble from him. Kurt slid out, graceful as always, and Dave led him up to the front door. Dave knocked low on the frame with his boot, and opened the unlocked door.

“Gram! Papa! We’re here!” he called and walked in, Kurt beside him.

It was a little strange to be here with Kurt; this house was such a presence of his private life, of his family life—to bring Kurt here for the first time was really bringing Kurt into his _family_. No wonder Kurt was nervous. Dave couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized how huge this was. It felt right, though.

Dave didn’t have too long to wrestle with it, either, as Gram hustled in from the kitchen, calling out a warm hello, grabbing Dave by the sides of his head to guide him down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Hi, Gram,” he said, trying not to spill the crumble.

Gram noticed, and shooed him towards the kitchen. “Go put that in the oven to warm,” she said, and turned to Kurt. “And you must be Kurt.”

“I am,” Kurt said, and smiled at her, warm and charming through his nerves, and visibly relaxed when Gram leaned in to greet him with a kiss to his cheek as well.

“Dave has told us so much about you,” Gram said, taking his hand into both of hers and leading him into their living room. “Including a particular interest in classic Hollywood?”

“I admit to a certain fondness for Audrey, yes,” Kurt said.

“Then there’s a certain matter that I’d like your opinion on,” Gram said, and then they were officially out of Dave’s range of hearing. He turned the oven on to warm and put the crumble inside. It would keep in there without drying out until after dinner. And if it was a little dry they could always—

Dave smacked his forehead. He forgot the whipped cream. He opened the fridge to check inside, and smiled. Gram had purchased a new pint of heavy cream, and had attached a post-it with Dave’s name on it.

“She knew you’d forget,” Papa said, appearing in the doorway. Dave shut the fridge and hugged his grandfather.

“Have you met him yet?” Dave asked.

“Not yet,” Papa said. “I was in the back. Your Gram has him captive in front of the records.”

Dave rolled his eyes. Gram was very proud of her record collection.

“Shall we go rescue Kurt from your Gram?”

“Good idea,” Dave said.

Papa winked at him and guided Dave into the living room with a hand on his back. Dave had to grin. Sure, Gram was bending Kurt’s ear, but Kurt looked quite willing, almost eager, to have his ear bent.

“Finally,” Papa said. “A young man who actually knows how to dress!”

Dave rolled his eyes; Kurt was dressed in his grey suit, had promised Dave that it was actually casual wear. Dave knew it gave Kurt a certain amount of armor, and he didn’t begrudge him. If nothing else, Dave knew it would give Kurt and Papa something to talk about.

Kurt turned when Papa spoke, stepping forward with his hand out. Papa took his hand and pulled Kurt into a hug.

“I know how to dress,” Dave protested half-heartedly, happy that Kurt accepted the familiar welcome.

“And what good is knowing if you never use it, eh?” Papa said. He turned to Kurt. “I hope you have better luck with him than I. _You_ he may listen to.”

“I listen to you!”

Papa winked at Dave. “Yes, but I don’t have the advantages that Kurt has. Goodness knows your Gram was able to convince me of things my parents never could.”

Kurt’s ears had flushed to a deep red, and Dave could feel the flush rising on the back of his neck. “Papa!”

“I just meant that having a sweetheart makes you look at the world differently,” Papa said, all wide-eyed innocence that Dave was sure never worked even when Papa was young enough to pull it off.

“Enough, Papa,” Gram said. “I’m going to get dinner started. Dave, can you give me a hand?”

“I…” Dave looked at Kurt, who grinned at him.

“Go on,” Kurt said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to your Papa about those suits in your closet for a while now.”

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

“Go on,” Papa said. “I promise I won’t steal him away.” He turned to Kurt, and ran a hand along the seams at Kurt’s shoulder. “Who did the tailoring on your suit? It’s very tight.”

Dave rolled his eyes, dismissed, and went into the kitchen.

“Oh, I did,” Kurt said, behind him.

“Really?” Papa said, and anything else was cut off as Dave shut the kitchen door behind him.

“Be a dear and get me the butter?” Gram said, not turning away from the frying pan.

Dave grabbed the butter from the refrigerator and handed it to Gram. “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

“Of course you do,” Gram said. “You’re not dumb.” She cupped his cheek. “We like him. You should keep him.”

“I intend to.”

“Good,” she said. “Let them talk clothes for a while. You know that will make your Papa happy. Set the table and catch me up.”

Dave smiled to himself, and grabbed the plates. “Did I tell you I joined glee?”

Dinner went wonderfully. Kurt was relaxed and very much his charming self, able to converse with ease. Dave even managed to impress him when he jumped into a discussion of 30s era music. They stayed later than they had planned, and when they finally left, Kurt said, “I knew I’d like them.”

“They like you.” Dave grinned. “I need to watch Papa, though. I might have to fight him for you.”

“Well,” Kurt teased as they hit the highway. “I do appreciate a man who knows his way around a good suit.”

***

Saturday morning came way too early, and Dave was grateful that Kurt was going to pick him up, giving him an extra fifteen minutes in bed. Staggering out in the early morning spring cold to the Nav woke him up better than the coffee he usually drank. Still, Dave kissed Kurt twice when he handed over a paper cup of coffee. There was a Tupperware box of morning buns in Dave’s backpack that he had baked the night before, and he dug them out, passing one each to Finn and Puck as they half-dozed in the backseat—Dave noticed they were slumped against each other, and he breathed a sigh of relief), before handing one to Kurt when they stopped at a red light.

Kurt bit into the pastry and moaned, eyes fluttering, and Dave grinned around his own bun. “My God,” Kurt said, mouth full. “These are amazing.”

“We shoulda press-ganged you into glee ages ago,” Puck said. Dave looked back at them, to see Finn nodding emphatically, the entire bun shoved in his mouth, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

A short laugh escaped him, and Dave shook his head. “Dude. _Bites_ ”

Finn shook his head, mumbling something around the bun that sounded like it might be “too good,” or possibly “Tudor,” but Dave didn’t think so, as that made no sense.

Puck popped his head between the seats as Kurt pulled into the parking lot. “You got any more?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Dave said and handed another back. “I know better than that.” If there was anything Dave learned from baking for GSA, was to begin by doubling the batch, and going from there. Finn also grabbed a second, eating it in slower bites as he carefully climbed from the back of the Nav, trying not to get sugar on Kurt’s seats by trying to do things with his palms and not his fingers, bun shoved in his mouth.

“Oh, Cubby!” Santana purred, quick fingers stealing a bun. Dave turned to her, then back as the box was pulled from his hands. Brittany waved at him with her fingers, and handed the box to Quinn, who quickly walked by them and into the building.

Dave rolled his eyes and followed, thankful that he’d already eaten his share.

 

***

Getting his costume and onto the bus reminded Dave of early morning football games, and he let himself fall back on old habits as he got onto the bus. Pick a three seater towards the back. Hang his hanger on the window. Look around for friends.

Kurt slipped into the seat next to him, leaning over him to hand his costume as well.

“We’ve got a couple hours,” Kurt said. “You going to be okay on the inside?”

Dave shrugged. “I’ll deal.

They were in the second to last seat. Finn sat behind them, his long legs turned sideways into the extra space. Puck had the other rear seat. Brittany and Santana were squeezed into the two seater across from them.

Dave settled back into the seat, wrapping an arm around Kurt when he settled into him. This was going to be a good trip.

***

It didn’t matter how good the trip is, after several hours in one of those seats, even tiny Tina’s walking was cramped. They didn’t have much time to work it out, however, as they were rushed to their changing area to get into their costumes, then back out into the auditorium to watch the others perform. There were seven entries, but Dave barely paid them any attention, clapping when the others did.

Then, the host announced The Warblers. 

The lights came up on stage and Dave clapped as The Warblers were revealed standing in formation, heads down. Sebastian was front and center, and Dave nudged Kurt. He rolled his eyes, but, when Dave started to clap for their friend, Kurt clapped just as hard.

Dave frowned. He couldn’t see the asshole anywhere. There was _no_ way that Blaine was missing a chance to perform.

Unless, of course, he was pouting in a corner somewhere because he wasn’t the soloist. Dave had to admit, he liked the image.

Sebastian broke away from the pack and started to sing, and Dave shook his head. He had forgotten they were an acapella group.

_The sun goes down, the stars come out,_  
And all that counts, is here and now,   
My universe, will never be the same, I'm glad you came. 

Laser lights spun down from the ceiling like the kind from some kind of eighties stadium rock show, and Dave heard Finn “ooo”ing behind him. The formation moved as one, the chorus chanting out the “Ohs”. Sebastian fell back into the routine as they danced. Dave was impressed despite himself. He had to admit, they had pretty good moves, even if they were predictable.

Sebastian started to sing again, this time while dancing at the front of the stage.

_You cast a spell on me, spell on me,_  
You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me,   
And I decided you look well on me, well on me,   
So lets go somewhere no one else can see you and me 

The chanting shifted a little bit, taking on a harder edge, and Sebastian rolled with it, or maybe lead the charge. His dancing grew sharper, edgier, and Dave saw a little bit of his friend who played the room at _Scandals_ peek out. Behind him, Santana wolf-whistled.

_Turn the lights out now,_  
Now I'll take you by the hand,   
Hand you another drink, drink it if you can,   
Can you spend a little time,   
Time is slipping away,   
Away from us so stay,   
Stay with me I can make, make you glad you came 

_Yeah,_ Dave thought with a snort. _I bet you can._

_The sun goes down, the stars come out,_  
And all that counts, is here and now  
My universe, will never be the same, I'm glad you came  
I'm glad you came 

_You cast a spell on me, spell on me,_  
You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me,   
And I decided you look well on me, well on me,   
So lets go somewhere no one else can see you and me 

Sebastian gyrated, and Dave saw one of the judged titter behind her hand. Bastard was flirting with them! Looking at Sebastian’s face, he knew it was working, too.

Except…

Santana leaned over Dave’s shoulder to whisper, “Judge number three doesn’t look too impressed.”

Dave looked and had to agree; judge number three didn’t look the type to be seduced by young male sexuality. He looked, well, _bored_.

“Yeah,” Kurt whispered back, “but two looks about ready to bend over.”

Dave bit his lips to hold in his snickers, as Santana purred “wanky” and sat back.

_Turn the lights out now,_  
Now I'll take you by the hand,   
Hand you another drink, drink it if you can,   
Can you spend a little time,   
Time is slipping away,   
Away from us so stay,   
Stay with me I can make, make you glad you came, 

The more Dave watched, the more he agreed with judge number three. The Warblers were polished, but that was it. It was an act, much like Sebastian’s playboy façade. There was only the shadow of passion.

It was sobering. For all the show, Dave couldn’t help but see them as mechanical. Further, as Dave watched the judges through the rest of the Warblers’ set, _they_ seemed to realize it too, though judge number two didn’t really seem to care.

Kurt nudged Dave as the Warblers left the stage and Dave looked. The others were filing out to get ready for their own set. Dave stood and followed.

***

They met in the hallway. Under Schue’s watch they were civil, at least. That is, until Blaine saw Dave. It was the first time he’d seen the other since Sectionals, and it didn’t look as if time had changed anything.

“What’re you doing here?” Blaine spat. Dave felt Kurt tense next to him, and Dave took his hand. Kurt squeezed back, but the tension didn’t ease.

Blaine saw and scoffed. Dave scowled as Blaine said, “You don’t really meant that this _ape_ —”

“Is my boyfriend?” Kurt cut Blaine off. “Has shown me more honest affection, love, and respect than you ever have? Or is one of the best baritones that I have ever heard?”

Dave flashed Kurt a grin, but didn’t keep his glare from Blaine for long—just long enough to see that Schue was absent.

Naturally.

Sebastian pushed his way to the front, patting the fat Warbler— _Trent, right?_ —on the shoulder in a comforting way before crossing his arms.

“Really?” he drawled. “Still? You know, Blaine, it’s this kind of childish behavior that got you demoted.

“Childish?” Blaine spun. “At least I’m not some kind of cheap man-whore!”

_That_ got everyone’s attention; the background rumbling stopped as they stared at the two Warblers.

Sebastian’s expression never changed, but his face paled. Blaine had scored a point and he knew it. Smug bastard.

“You know,” Sebastian said, voice trembling just a little before it found its footing. “I never really got the difference between ‘whore’ and ‘manwhore’.” He paused. “Either way, I’m far from cheap.”

Blaine blinked, and Dave saw some of the color return to Sebastian’s face. It was a smart move on Sebastian’s part. Blaine had expected Sebastian to react to the ‘whore’ comment; that he hadn’t had thrown Blaine just enough to knock him off balance.

“For fuck’s sake,” Santana grit out. “Stop forcing your stupid sexual hang-ups on other people.” She looked him up and down. “But because you can’t get laid doesn’t give you any right to judge.”

Sebastian glanced at her, surprised. Dave was too; he’d never have expected _Santana_ to come to anyone’s defense.

But Blaine just scoffed. “Better than a closet-case dyke.”

The next few moments happened very quickly.

Santana screeched and launched herself at Blaine. It was only luck and reflexes that let Dave catch her around the middle. Everyone started yelling. Kurt, flanked by Finn and Puck, got up in Blaine’s face as the shorter boy backed away. The Warblers protests were much more restrained, except for that Trent kid. Dave had never seen someone so scandalized.

The yelling must have drawn Schue’s attention, because he appeared at a run with two other adults, and they waded in to separate everyone.

Sebastian managed to grab Dave’s arm as they were herded out. “Cubby,” he said. “It’d be worth it to lose to you just to wipe that smug look of that little shit’s face.”

Dave nodded and Sebastian was gone with the others.

Schue looked mad enough that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He held up his hand and said tightly, “Just go get ready.”

With bowed heads, they walked off to take their places.

***

The first song started the slowest and the most dramatically. Dave walked onto the dark stage and took his position in the front with Puck, Finn, and Kurt, waiting for his cue.

The spotlight lit Kurt and he began to sing.

_Empty spaces - what are we living for_  
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score  
On and on  
Does anybody know what we are looking for 

A second spotlight lit Dave. In a single moment all the nerves inside him expanded, filling him, and then—popped, leaving him with a cool confidence. He took a deep breath and sang the next verse.

_Another hero another mindless crime_  
Behind the curtain in the pantomime  
Hold the line  
Does anybody want to take it anymore 

Kurt joined him for the first chorus, their duet bittersweet like all songs of hope in the face of impossible odds.

_The show must go on_  
The show must go on  
Inside my heart is breaking  
My make-up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on 

The lights dimmed on Kurt and Dave, but didn’t go out completely. A third light shined brightly on Finn as he sang the next bit, the words and tone filled with a bleeding melancholy.

_Whatever happens I'll leave it all to chance_  
Another heartache another failed romance  
On and on  
Does anybody know what we are living for 

Puck took the next verse, the ache in his voice plain to everyone, and Dave saw something like resolve on Finn’s face as he watched Puck.

_I guess I'm learning_  
I must be warmer now  
I'll soon be turning round the corner now  
Outside the dawn is breaking  
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free 

Now, the four of them were spotlighted and they sang the second chorus with four part harmony.

_The show must go on_  
The show must go on - yeah  
Ooh inside my heart is breaking  
My make-up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on 

Kurt stepped forward, killing the high notes, and Dave felt it echo in his chest, could feel the energy pulsing through him.

_Yeah, oh oh oh_

_My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies_  
Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die  
I can fly - my friends 

The lights lit the stage fully, revealing the others behind them as they joined in for the final chorus.

_The show must go on_  
The show must go on  
I'll face it with a grin  
I'm never giving in  
On with the show 

Only four lines left, and Dave sang his:

_I'll top the bill_

And Puck:

_I'll overkill_

Finn:

_I have to find the will to carry on_

And finally, Kurt:

_On with the show_

And as his voice soared to the back of the auditorium, everyone else chanted low the final words:

_The show must go on, go on, go on, go on..._

The music pulsed out as the light dropped to half-strength, but the tempo picked up, and the four of them backed away, passing Berry, Santana, Tina, and Mercedes as they made their way to the front. Dave and Kurt shared a grin as Tina started to sing.

_You know the bed feels warmer_  
Sleeping here alone  
You know I dream in color  
And do the things I want! 

Mercedes was next, giving all her attitude, and taking none back.

_You think you've got the best of me_  
Think you've had enough the last laugh  
Bet you think that everything good is gone  
Think you left me broken down  
Think that I'd come running back  
Baby, you don't know me, 'cause you're dead wrong 

All the girls sang the first chorus, dancing with the boys as they added wordless accompaniment.

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger_  
Stand a little taller  
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone  
What doesn't kill you makes you fighter  
Footsteps even lighter  
Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone 

Berry had the first bridge. Dave had to admit, the girl had pipes. There was nothing he could find fault with in her performance. It was almost enough to make him warm to her.

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger_  
Just me, myself and I  
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger  
Stand a little taller  
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone 

Santana was next, proud and strong and defiant, pouring all of her frustration from earlier into her voice, and it sounded _fierce!_

_You heard that I was starting over with someone new_  
They told you I was moving on, over you  
You didn't think that I'd come back  
I'd come back swinging  
You tried to break me, but you see 

Everyone joined in on the chorus and Dave knew he was grinning, didn’t care that it possibly looked ridiculous, because they were doing it in a way he never would have expected from their rehearsals and it was thrilling.

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger_  
Stand a little taller  
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone  
What doesn't kill you makes you fighter  
Footsteps even lighter  
Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone 

Mercedes took the next bridge, letting her diva shine.

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger_  
Just me, myself and I  
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger  
Stand a little taller  
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone 

And Santana wrecked the last verse, loud and powerful and in-your-face-I’m-still-here.

_Thanks to you I got a new thing started_  
Thanks to you I'm not the broken-hearted  
Thanks to you I'm finally thinking 'bout me  
You know in the end the day you left is just my beginning 

Their version didn’t repeat the way the radio edit did, and it ended with Tina.

_In the end…I'm not alone_

The music finished on an upswing, and the electric drumbeat started on the next beat. Dave felt his heart race. This was it.

Unlike the other songs, this one started with a unified harmony, all of them singing as one.

_We have the chance to turn the pages over_  
We can write what we want to write  
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older 

Then, Santana’s voice rang out, loud and clear.

_We're all someone's daughter_

And Dave answered,

_We're all someone's son_

Finn and Puck sang the next line together;

_How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?_

The chorus started as an anthem, their voices in unison as they danced as one.

_You're the voice, try and understand it_  
Make it noise and make it clear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

Mercedes started the second verse.

_This time, we know we all can stand together_

Then Sam,

_With the power to be powerful_

And Quinn,

_Believing we can make it better_

Tina sang the next,

_We're all someone's daughter_

And Kurt,

_We're all someone's son_

Artie and Mike finished the verse.

_How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?_

Dave and Kurt started to sing the next chorus together,

_You're the voice, try and understand it_  
Make it noise and make it clear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

They were joined by Santana and Brittany.

_We're not gonna sit in silence_  
We're not gonna live with fear  
Oh-wo-wo-wo, whoa-o-o-o 

Puck and Finn joined in.

_You're the voice, try and understand it_  
Make it noise and make it clear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

Then Rachel and Tina.

_We're not gonna sit in silence_  
We're not gonna live with fear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

Sam and Artie,

_You're the voice, try and understand it_  
Make it noise and make it clear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

And finally, Mercedes, giving it her all as her voice soared over and around, tying everyone together.

_We're not gonna sit in silence_  
We're not gonna live with fear  
Oh-o-o-o, whoa-o-o-o 

They ended abruptly, the lights bright on their last words.

_We're not gonna sit in silence!_

There was a pause, a minute of absolute stillness where all Dave could hear was the harshness of his own breathing and the blood roaring in his ears.

The lights went off, and sound came rushing at him like a wave, and with a start Dave realized it was applause.

As they left the stage, all Dave could see was Kurt’s smile, glinting in the darkness and knew there was a matching smile on his face.

***

Blaine was pouting, making sure to keep his petulance in Dave’s sight so that Dave couldn’t watch the speaker without seeing his ill grace. At the same time, Blaine stayed just turned away enough that he couldn’t see Dave and his growing frustration. Dave looked at Sebastian and got an eyeroll in return. Even the rest of the Warblers looked frazzled around the edges. Looked like Blaine’s shine had well and truly worn off.

Kurt brushed up next to Dave, and Dave put the Warblers from his mind. He reached out and took Kurt’s hand, wrapping it in both of his and kissing Kurt’s fingertips.

Kurt gave him a tight smile in response and bit his lip as they watched the announcer.

“And the winner of the 2012 Show Choir Regional Championship is—The New Directions!”

Dave cheered with the rest of them, pumping his fist and diving into the congratulatory press of bodies. Sebastian pulled him aside to shake his hand.

“Tomorrow? Lima Bean?”

Dave nodded, and Sebastian looked to Kurt. Dave caught sight of Blaine’s face, just beyond where Berry had a stranglehold on the trophy. He’d never seen the boy that angry before. Good. Eat it, Short Shit.

Then someone tugged his arm; Kurt grinned at him, and it was the most natural thing to lean in, let his hands come up to cup Kurt’s face and kiss him there, on stage. And the smile on Kurt’s face when Dave pulled back, ears ringing with the cheering?

Perfect.


End file.
